SHAMELESS
by BethyBathory
Summary: What do you get when you mix a disgruntled Rogue with last minute Christmas shopping, a jewel heist, a high speed car chase, and a sexy cajun thief? You guessed it: ROAD TRIP!
1. Tis the Season

Sweet Southern Comfort Challenge

Synopsis: Things have been changing in the X Mansion, especially for Rogue. Becoming more and more disillusioned with her mutation each day, she desperately needs an out. When out Christmas shopping one day, a chance collision of fates may just give her what she want… whether she realizes it or not. This omits X3 and Origins… mainly because I started writing this before the movies came out. :P

Rating: currently PG-13 for language and brief sexual situations.

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men, nor am I gaining any profit from this...except maybe the sweet satisfaction of handling Remy Lebeau and making him do whatever I so please. : )

**The Difficulties of Christmas Shopping**

Rogue leaned forward from the passenger seat and clicked on the radio.

"_Blessed Graceland Whispers to me, Carry on, Carry on, Sweet Southern Comfort carry–_"

"– _And today's weather is a high of 28 degrees and a windshield of..."_

"Hey, Ah was listenin' to that! Ah love that song."

"Well, when you get your own car, you can have all the control over the radio you want. But while you're in my car, you listen to the news," a rigid Scott Summers replied while gritting his teeth. Being blackmailed by Logan into transporting four teenagers to the mall for Christmas shopping was taking more strength and control than a hand-to-hand fight with a rabid Sabertooth in heat. "Besides, nobody likes country music."

"AH like country music!"

"You do?" came the muffled voice of Bobby Drake from the backseat. _Not muffled enough to get that whiney tone out of his that boy's mouth, _thought Scott.

"Of course Ah do! You of all people should know what kinda music Ah like!"

Scott rolled his eyes behind his ruby glasses. He didn't exactly know the cause, but within the past few months, the relationship between Bobby and Rogue had become rather stressed... almost violently so. More than once, the teachers at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters have had to break apart their arguments before the scathing words turned into fists.

"Marie, All I'm trying to say is–"

"Ah told ya not ta call me that! It's Rogue!"

Scott sighed. Rogue was a problem all of her own. First it was her uncontrollable power – which gave the staff the difficult task of creating accommodations as discretely as possible. Now the staff had to deal with a complete change in personality. Lately, she had become extremely irritable. Blowing up at the slightest irk. She disconnected herself from all of her friends, preferring to spend time alone in her room. When she was among the group, she snapped at everyone and hid behind a thick blanket of teenage attitude. Even Logan, her closest ally, couldn't get through to her.

"And why do y'all always attack me, anyways? Now Ah'm not good enough 'cause a mah musical–"

"ENOUGH! I don't want to hear another word from anyone until we are inside the mall!"

The teens all froze, staring at him in a startled astonishment. Scott had never really gotten used to the whole dealing-with-children thing. When faced with the all too common display of what he thought of as 'foolish judgment', he always passed the responsibility of punishment to Jean. Scott felt a deep pang from within his chest. Swallowing impulsively, he pushed back the thought of the woman he had loved – and lost– and directed his thoughts back to the issue at hand. Rogue.

Scott looked askance at the small girl beside him. Nobody knew how to help her. Ororo was the first to notice a shift in her personality. She began wearing darker, more brooding colours and covered her face in heavy makeup. Though she was always forced to cover her skin, she began layering her clothing to an almost ridiculous amount. As the weeks passed, she became noticeably thinner, and just the other day, Kitty Pryde reported to the professor that she saw deep cut marks all over Rogue's arms while they were changing. They were all worried, but even the professor was at a loss as to how to help her.

Studying her sullen posture, Scott clenched his jaw a few times, a habit of his to relieve tension. He personally thought she was being selfish. She had a lot to be thankful for, under the care of Professor Xavier, and she wasn't the only one who had to make sacrifices for her mutation.

Rogue stared out of the window through dark sunglasses. Half her face was hidden beneath a black woolen hat with a wide, down turned brim. She wore a cute little green summer dress, but the effect was ruined by the multitude of necklaces that decorated her throat, her thick black stockings, and the long leather jacket she insisted on wearing everywhere. Her feet were folded under her in an indian position. Scott had commented that her combat boots would rough up the interior leather of his new H2, but she only glared and said that the car was uglier than an armadillo with AIDS. Scott chose not to respond to that.

Scott shook his head, knowing it would be futile to try and figure her out.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The store was crowded. She hated crowds.

Once they entered the mall, Mr. Summers had given them a lengthy lecture on etiquette and adult responsibility then sent them off to shop on their own.

Rogue looked around, not quite sure what she should do. She resented Kitty and her 'holiday spirit.' She had forced Rogue into joining the rush of last minute Christmas shopping. Now the hyperactive computer nerd was nowhere in sight.

What kind of presents do you buy for a houseful of mutants?

"Well, there's always wrappin' paper. Everyone needs wrappin' paper." Satisfied with her choice, she went in search of a hallmark store.

Weaving in and out between the crowds, careful not to brush up against anyone, Rogue wondered vaguely how Kitty actually enjoyed this.

Picking up her pace, she rounded a corner sharply, only to collide into something very tall and solid. Looking up from the floor, Rogue added _a very gorgeous tall and solid something. _A hand reached down to help her up, but Rogue recoiled from it and clumsily stood on her own.

"_Escuse-moi, ma cherie." _

And in a flash he was gone again, swept up in the current of the crowd.

Rogue shook her head, shunning herself for being so careless. She scaled the sides of the mall for the next half hour, ducking in and out of shops to gather half-assed presents.

By noon, she had accumulated enough bags to feed a bonfire for a week. She contemplated stopping by the food court, but the thought of eating made her nauseated. Instead, she lugged her bags over to the nearest bench and plopped down to mope for a while. After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, she noticed Mr. Summers exiting a jewelry store. He looked miserable. _Prob'ly returnin' Dr. Grey's engagement ring or somethin', _she thought. Suddenly interested, Rogue got up and wandered over to the large, decadent window display. A beautiful diamond necklace greeted her from behind the glass, looking like it probably weighed a solid five pounds. _How very Breakfast at Tiffany's._ Rogue struggled for a moment, then against her better judgment, entered the store.

The lighting was almost blinding as it reflected off of rows and rows of sparkling jewelry under thick cases of glass. Surrounded by men in crisp suits and women in heels and fur coats, Rogue felt tremendously out of place with her plastic beaded chokers and cheap moodrings. Fumbling around with oversized bags with long tubes of gay-looking wrapping paper sticking out didn't help.

She traveled through the store, staring at the intricate gold earrings, brouches glittered with sapphires and rhinestones, and rings with stones as big as grapes.

In the centre of the store was a large glass display with a sign underneath stating in fine script: _Silent auction, December 24th, 7:30pm. Featuring from Europe the memorizing Le Rubis de Sang Royal_.

The ruby of royal blood? Rogue's upper lip curled as she snickered at the name. But when she looked up into the display, her smirk disappeared completely.

Surrounded by a scattering of jewels lay a black velvet pillow supporting the most beautiful thing Rogue had ever seen. A ruby so large it would barely fit inside her fist. As the light hit it from various angles, the deep red would shift into a brilliant crimson. Shaped into a teardrop, it did indeed look like a drop of blood.

For a moment, Rogue had the craziest urge to break into the case and steal it all for herself. She stared at it for a while until she noticed the strange looks she was getting from the employees. Reluctantly, she moved on. All of the other jewels that she had been drooling over now seemed dull and boring.

After about ten minutes of sneaking glances at the ruby, she decided enough time had passed to be considered fashionably late to Mr. Summer's meeting spot. She turned and strolled to the exit. As she was passing the theft detectors, someone pushed past her roughly, causing her to stumble slightly. Suddenly, the loud screeching of alarms filled the air.

"Shit!" Startled, Rogue made to take off, but a hand pulled her back by the neck of her coat.

"No, you don't!" The security guard behind her held onto her arms. Rogue could feel his fingers digging into her biceps. "You steal from here?"

"Ah don't know whatcha talkin' about!"

There was a shriek from inside the store. "_le rubis!_ It's gone!"

"It's alright. I caught the little thief." The guard looked down at her with cold eyes. "Now give it up."

"Ah don't got nuthin'! Now let me go!" Rogue tried to wiggle out of the steely grip, but realized he wasn't about to let go any time soon.

A stout man pushed his way through the crowd that was forming, stopping in front of her. "You've been caught, miss, now I suggest you give back the jewel before you get yourself into any more trouble."

"Ah don't got no jewel!" She yelled as she continued to struggle.

"Please, you are only making things more difficult for yourself," The man said calmly, folding his arms.

"Are ya deaf! Ah don't have it, fat man!"

"Why you little–!"

"James, what is this ruckus?" A thin, wrinkled woman with a blue power suit hanging off her boney frame stepped into the ring of gawkers.

"Ms. DeWinter! This little snit stole _le rubis de sang royal!" _James whined.

The woman looked down her nose at Rogue. "Are you positive?"

"Of course!"

"Yes," a woman's voice cried out from the crowd. "She was the one who had been staring at it so suspiciously!"

"Hand it over, girl!" growled the security guard.

"Ah don't got it!"

"GIVE IT HERE!" The fat man named James lunged toward her and grabbed her bags, searching through them for the jewel. Not finding it, he padded down her pockets, then crudely plunged his hand inside her coat.

"Hey!"

Not finding any inner hiding spots, he tried to rip off her coat.

"No! Wait –" She wrenched away from him, but not before his hand brushed against her bared shoulder. She felt the familiar pull of her power as she watched him recoil and stagger. He fell to one knee while holding his hand as if it were burnt.

_His wife left him a week ago for her aerobics trainer. He is relieved that she now will not learn of his affair with her secretary. It hurts that he can only see his kids once every two weekends. He feels the same lump in his throat every time his mother calls and he has to pretend everything is okay. _

His eyes were wide and fearful. "M-m-mutant!"

A string of gasps ran through the crowd as people backed away from her.

"It WAS her!"

"Someone get the police!"

"But where did the ruby go..."

"She probably teleported it somewhere–"

"– or turned it into something..like a piece of lint!"

Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Stay away, Billy!"

"Be careful! Don't upset her or she'll kill us all!"

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud." Enough of this. Rogue found an opening and elbowed the guard still holding her in the gut as hard as she could. As he grunted and let go, she bolted through the crowd. They parted for her, acting as if she had the plague or something.

It took a good five seconds before the shock cleared and the security guard took off after her, followed by a few brave individuals.

Rogue twisted through the sea of shoppers, lugging her bags behind her. From the shouts behind her, she could tell they were getting closer. She turned a corner sharply and squealed as a pair of strong hands enveloped her. One arm slid around her waist and pulled her though a doorway while a gloved hand covered her mouth. For the third time in an hour, she struggled against the grip holding her down and yelled out muffled curses.

"Shh! Would y'be quiet!"

"Mmm mm MMM mm MMM!"

"Oh hush up! I ain' gon hurt ya."

The arms disappeared and Rogue whipped around to her attacker and glared. He was leaning up against a stall with his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his full lips. A small dimple rested on chiseled cheeks, complimenting a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Auburn hair fell across this face in a disheveled, yet complimenting fashion. Rogue cursed inwardly as she felt an unwelcome blush rise in her cheeks as she stared up at him. He was tall. _Very_ tall.

It was then she noticed the urinals and grungy white linoleum. She was in a bathroom. A men's bathroom.

"What do ya want?" she asked warily.

An eyebrow lifted over black reflective sunglasses. "I jus' saved y'from an angry mob."

"Yeah. Why?"

"Ooo, hostile!" he grinned, "Mebbe I feel an obligation t'save a _belle femme _in distress. But now be de time t'be questionin' yo' white knight when dey still be huntin' ya?" He cocked his head to the side as the sounds of shouting grew louder.

"Fuck!"

"_Dieu_, I like my women spicy!"

"Shut up! Now how do we get outta here?"

"Dis way." He turned away from her and she couldn't help but be disappointed that her view of his butt was interrupted by a long, brown trench coat. He turned to the wall and reached up, wiggling the corner of the vent above his head. It popped out, dispelling dust everywhere. He shook his head, a cloud of dust puffing out of his shaggy hair like some backward halo. "Come on," he urged as he bent down to give her a lift.

She hesitated.

"C'mon! We ain't got all day!" A pause. "I said I ain't gon hurt y'none! Ya gotta trust me here."

Rogue grudgingly stepped forward, grumbling, "It's not me Ah'm worried about." She swung her bags into the small hole then stepped into his hands. The momentum from the man caused Rogue to shoot up into the vent a little more forcefully than necessary. She felt him scramble up behind her just as she heard the door to the bathroom crash open.

"They're in the ventilation system!"

"Go, go, go, go, go!" and she was pushed from behind. That was all the urging she needed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The space was even more cramped than it looked. Rogue felt her back scrape against the smooth aluminum, occasionally rubbing up against a rough bolt. She felt her stockings tear at the knee. _Oh, this is pleasant. _Her hands were grimy from crawling through years of dust.

"Turn right, _chere_."

At least he sounded a little stuffy from the debris. That made Rogue feel a tiny bit better.

After a few minutes of clamoring through the dark, the man behind her told her to stop. "Dere should be a loose vent right under ya."

Indeed, she could feel tiny screws sticking up under her palms. She twisted them the rest of the way out and flung them carelessly behind her.

"Ow, fuck!"

Rogue smirked as she slammed her fist down on the vent, causing it to swing open, then jumped down smoothly.

She landed on her feet, the heels of her boots clapping loudly against hard cement. She grimaced as the jarring of the impact vibrated painfully up her legs. Behind her, she heard a soft swish of cloth. As she turned around, the man was straightening and dusting off his coat nonchalantly. _Wow. Someone's done that before. _

They were on a platform leading into a garage. Abandoned semi trucks stretched across yellow and black strips of tape so covered in oil they were hardly visible. Mountains of cardboard boxes stood in darkened corners, almost reaching the ceiling. Behind them, a row of blackened windows could be seen. The huge garage doors were closed, but there was a small exit off to the side.

The trenchcoat guy slowly strolled down the handicap ramp with his hands in his pockets, moving back and forth, back and forth across her vision. At the bottom he twirled around to face her and held out a hand. "Shall we, _ma belle_?" He gave her a crooked smile.

Rogue rolled her eyes and swung underneath the handrails, brushing past him. She walked to the heavy looking door about ten metres away and yanked on it. It didn't budge.

She turned back and was annoyed to find the man hadn't moved. He was still halfway across the room, leaning against the railing.

"It's locked, Frenchie."

He pushed himself off of the metal bars and took his time crossing over to her. He turned his back to her and jiggled the handle a few times with both hands, then twisted it. It gave under his hands. He turned to look over his shoulder. "No it ain't."

Rogue huffed and pushed past him into a damp but sunlit alleyway. The cold air bit at her, but she was glad to feel it. Taking a deep breath, she started walking away.

"Y'still didn' t'ank Remy fo' savin' ya, _chere_."

"Yeah, well 'Remy' didn't save me from anythin', sugah, so he can hop right off his high horse," she threw into the air, not turning around. "Ah could've gotten outta there all by mah – oh shit." As she rounded the corner, she skidded to a halt.

Half a dozen blue and whites were parked outside the mall's main entrance with their lights flashing wildly. Police officers were scattering everywhere, around the entrance and behind the semi circle of cars. A couple were heading right in their direction.

"_Fils de Putain_!" the curse was spat into the back of her neck. She jumped, not realizing he had snuck up behind her.

"What are we gonna do?" she whispered.

There was a brief silence before he answered. "I save you, now you gonna save me." He then grabbed the back of her neck with his right hand and swung his left around her body. A long knife glinted in front of her face Her eyes widened as it was pressed against her throat. With his knee, he pushed her forward.


	2. Some Days

Disclaimer: I do not own the x-men. I am making about...oh, $0.00 an hour in the making of this story.

Alright. One of these days, I am going to actually address the challenges that this entire story was based on. This challenge was actually proposed by EternalEyes on the Gambit Guild website. The conditions are: having "Sweet Southern Comfort" by Billy Jewel, "Whiskey Girl" by Toby Keith, or "Mississippi Girl" by Faith Hill be sung in a car by Remy or Rogue; have the words "Scoundrel" " Sexy" and " Pot Roast"; and contain the phrase "Wiggling her toes playfully." How I got a jewel robbery and car heist from all that, I have no idea, but it's all there, I swear.

Because of the holidays, my updating is a bit sporadic, but hopefully by the time classes start, I will have worked up some sort of a routine.

Muchos Gracias totainted-angel666, my very first reviewer! You rock!

**Some Days...**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
**

Scott checked his watch again, clenching his jaw in annoyance. He, Bobby, and Piotr were standing beside a huge, complicated fountain that spewed strips of water in every which direction from the mouths of various animals. After scanning the main foyer of the mall one more time, his gaze settled on the marble alligator in front of him. He scowled at it, but all it did was spit pink- tinted water back at him.

"I totally couldn't find her anywhere. It's like she disappeared or something!"

Scott turned to find the head of Kitty poking out of a nearby pillar.

Bobby, who had been leaning against the column, jumped up and dropped his bags, spilling an array of magazines and candy. "Don't _do_ that!" He leaned down to quickly hide the content of the magazines.

"Sorry." Kitty stepped through the pillar and bent to pick up a few cases of Snow Caps, tossing them in the bag, intentionally smothering the photo of a scantily-clad Paris Hilton.

"Rogue iz twenty minutes late. I hope somezing did not happen to her," came the deep rumble of Piotr Rasputin's voice. Scott had always been amazed that such a dangerous and intimidating looking young man could have such a gentle demeanor. The boy was modestly standing off to the side, honest concern filling his eyes.

"Naw, Pete, She's, like, probably just off sulking somewhere and lost track of time."

"Or is doing this just to piss us off. She always tries to be so difficult," Bobby said as he straightened, pulling his bags close to his chest. "We should just leave her. See how she likes it."

Scott stepped in, "I don't think that will be necessary, Bobby, but you are right: Rogue needs to tune down the attitude. We'll save that for the professor." He sighed. "Let's load up the car while we're waiting." He began to march to the main exit with an agitated pace, the three teenagers struggling to keep up behind him.

As he approached the atrium leading to the revolving doors, he noticed a growing crowd pressing their noses against the window, ignoring the police officers trying to herd them back. The doors were blocked by a couple of uniforms who looked as if they were trying to reassure a gaggle of old ladies on the verge of hysteria. The entire scene was loud and chaotic. Leaving the kids behind, Scott pushed through the crowd, managing to squeeze his way over to one of the officers. "Sir, what's going on here?"

"A hostage situation outside." The cop broke off, swooping down to catch a giggling twelve- year- old running past. "Who's kid is this!...don't worry sir, we have the situation under control. You are perfectly safe in here." Picking the squiggling kid up under his arm, the cop rushed off.

Scott returned to the waiting teenagers and explained the situation. By the time he took his second breath, Kitty was already bouncing in place excitedly.

"We can help, we can help!" she squealed, pulling on Bobby's t-shirt, causing his head to bob up and down with her movements.

"Chill, man!" Bobby ripped out of her grasp. The neck of his shirt was stretched and uneven, half of it hanging down below his collarbone. "Crap."

Scott was still looking around the room. "No...it seems like the police are dealing with everything okay. We'll stick close and act only if we are needed." He fingered the visor in his pocket almost unconsciously. He kept it around him at all times, exactly for situations like this.

"Oooo! This is gonna be so fun!" Kitty tried to grab onto Bobby again to aid in her hopping, but he dodged out of the way.

"Calm down, Kitty! Probably nothing is going to happen. This stuff happens all the time."

"It's _Shadowcat_ on the job, _Iceman_!" she whispered dramatically before breaking out into giggles.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Where is Rogue when you need her? She can keep you tethered."

"Yeah, where_ is _Rogue, anyway? She's gonna miss all the fun!"

Ignoring the bantering of his friends, Piotr strolled closer to the mass of people. Because of his height, he was able to easily look above their heads and out the window. What he saw made his eyes widen. He turned back to his group. Kitty and Bobby, who were still arguing half-seriously back and forth, and Mr. Summers, looking blank as if he were thinking up one of his intricate strategies. Poitr looked back outside for a moment, then yelled across the room, his voice easily carrying across the noise of the crowd. "Um, guys? I zink I found her."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rogue closed her eyes as she was lead from the alleyway. _Some days..._

The shouting from the police ceased for a moment when they came into view, then doubled in volume after the situation registered. Cops jumped in and out of cars, positioning themselves into a sort of geometric pattern as shotguns and pistols flowed into their hands, pointing right at them. The whole maneuver looked like a well-choreographed dance. Under better circumstances, Rogue would have clapped.

A burly man wearing a crinkled white button-down with an open sports coat crouched uncomfortably behind an open car door and pulled out a megaphone. "Son, there's no reason to get yourself into this kind of trouble. Why don't you let her go and we'll talk about this." The attempt to sound concerned and understanding was marred by the mechanical tone that came through the contraption in his hands.

Behind her, trenchcoat guy yelled something so deeply accented that Rogue and the officer shared a moment of confusion. The man continued to push her with his body while gripping the knife. Strangely, he seemed almost gentle with the way he held it just above her collarbone.

They reached the asphalt and Rogue would have fallen flat on her face tripping over the curb if the man's arm had not righted her. He stopped to make sure she had regained her balance. She was about to turn around to remark something snide, but was pushed back into motion.

They passed by the first cop car, turning slightly to the side to keep them in view. They passed the second car, the third. _Why aren't they doing anything? _Rogue wondered as she watched the policemen staying completely still, only their eyes and their guns moving, tracing their movements. The guy with the megaphone was still blabbering unconvincing words of motivation, but she blocked them out, shifting uncomfortably under the tall man's grasp. She was not too surprised to notice that the warm breath hitting her cheek made her more wary than the blade at her throat.

"Which one?"

Rogue snapped back into reality. "Huh?"

Mr. Trenchcoat made an impatient _humph_ behind her. "Which car?"

"Oh. Umm..." She pointed to the yellow hummer.

The man stopped. She could imagine him looking down at the top of her head. "Y'gotta be kiddin' me," he mumbled under his breath.

Rogue rolled her eyes as she was pushed in that direction.

When they reached the side of the car, the man held his hand in front of her face. "Keys."

"What? _Ah_ don't have the keys! _Ah_ didn't drive here!"

Another bitten curse, then a shuffling behind her. The man pressed against her back as he struggled with something in his pocket. She was still fighting the little flurries in her stomach as he reached backwards to stick something in the lock. A bit of metal scraping, some clicking, then she heard the electric car locks spring open.

_Man, Ah needa learn how ta do that,_ she thought as she was pushed into the car all the way into passenger seat. On the way, her knee painfully hit against the shift stick. "Oww! Seriously?"

"Sorry," the man mumbled as he got in and bent his head to look under the steering wheel.

"Oh, no problem!" she bit back sarcastically.

The man ignored her remark as he began fiddling with a few wires. Within five seconds, the engine roared to life and the wheels squealed as the car jerked into motion. The shouting reached a peak and there were a few gunshots that ricocheted off the back bumper. The firing stopped immediately after it was evident that with the trenchcoat dude's erratic driving, it would be impossible to pop the tires. The big lug of a car darted down the wrong side of a one-way entrance, skittering from side to side, almost barreling into the vehicles parked in the margin.

At the last minute, there was a sharp, red beam that cut across her vision, nipping her side-view mirror. The car jerked frantically in response. _Oh, sure, Cyclops shows up as soon as the _car's_ in trouble! _As there were no other beams to follow, Rogue assumed that Mr. Summers was still in shock after actually hitting his baby. _Priorities, priorities, _she supposed.

They peeled out of the parking lot, narrowly dodging some incoming traffic. Sirens began to blare behind them. Through the slightly smoking mirror, she saw half a dozen blue and whites chase after them.

Rogue crossed her legs underneath her and sighed, lowering her head to rest her palms on her forehead. She looked back up as the knife that held her hostage was tossed into her lap.

The man's lips stretched into wide, impish smile. "Seatbelts!"

A truly grateful thanks to all my reviewers: tainted-angel666, Ishandahalf, Rogue6787, prexistence, Chica de Los Ojos Café (pretty name), sakura5tar, Freak87, enchantedlight, angw, and AmberEyes (who is partially responsible for the creation of this fic)


	3. Likin' it Rough

Likin' it Rough

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Let's get one thing straight. Hummers – even the new fancy smancy H2s and the midgeted H3s – were _not_ built for high speeds or handling sharp corners. Rogue was crudely reminded of this as she held onto the "Oh, shit!" bar above her head and braced her feet up on the glove compartment. One thing can be said for them however; they bounded over curbs, ran over grassy islands, and crashed through bushes extremely well.

Rogue had a feeling the guy beside her has had a little practice in the art of evading the police; he expertly dodged between cars – no small feat with this monster– and knew how to bluff the police that crept up beside him, pushing them right off the road without losing control himself. He would speed up, pass a few civilian vehicles until there was room around him, wait for the cops to catch up to him, slow down just a tad, then when they got right on his tail, he'd turn sharply onto the sidewalk and cut into a side street. The cops, in their confusion, would break hard enough to skid sideways, effectively blocking the backup who did not have enough time to break. Rogue would cringe at the sound of crashing metal, but quickly replace it with a look of terror as the Hum-v would narrowly miss driving right into a mailbox, or a stop sign, or a little old woman with a walker.

After about ten minutes of holding on for dear life, the screaming of the sirens became fainter and fainter. Rogue looked back, seeing the street empty aside from a few SUVs and minivans trying desperately to stay out of their way. Mr. Trencoat slowed down enough for her to pull herself from the nice indent she made in the headrest and unclench her fingers, which had turned completely white. Cracking her knuckles, attempting to get the feeling back into them, she looked wearily at her abductor. A tight, conscious silence ensued.

"So.." she broke in after a while, "this how ya normally pick up chicks?"

The man barked out a surprised laugh before smirking back at her. "Y'got not idea."

"Yeah, well ya need a little work on ya pickup line. 'Hold still, or I'll cut ya a second smile!'"

"Y'wound me, chere! All de great romances involve knives. Romyo an' Juliet, Ant'ny an' Cleopatra, Ot'ello..."

"So Shakespeare had a little death fetish; it hardly beats flowers and a box of Godivas"

"I'll keep dat in mind."

They lapsed back into silence.

After a few minutes, Rogue snorted. "Ya know, you should never recite Shakespeare. With that accent of yours, it's just ungodly."

"Hey dere! Y'don' –" Whatever comeback he was going to make was interrupted by the sounds of a helicopter above them. "Ah, _merde_!" He slammed his foot on the accelerator and they were jolted back into the speed of light.

"What's the matter?"

"Wit' dat copter up dere, dey sure t'find us, no matter where we go. At least not in dis t'ing," he added in distaste. "Where'd y'get a car like dis, anyways?"

Rogue gagged audibly. "Oh, _please!_ This ain't mah car! It's a...friend's," she finished somewhat lamely.

"A ...friend's?" the man spread his lips into a wolfish grin.

"Yes, Frenchie, a _friend._" She glowered at him, attempting to cross her arms, but a sudden jolt as the car hit the curb again caused her to plaster her hands back on the glove box.

The man grimaced. "Call m'Remy, _Chere. _And I ain't French_."_

"You're Acadian. Smelly fishermen who migrated from France. Who _speak_ french. French is French. You're French."

Remy mumbled under his breath at her pointed look, "_Petite cocotte, tu va-t a la merde..."_

"What was that, Frenchie?"

He looked at her with an annoyed sneer, "_ce n'est rien."_

"Uh huh."

While they were bantering, the sirens became audible again. They both had deliberately ignored them. Remy began his routine of swerves and sharp turns as the first cop car sped into sight, and they ceased talking once more.

Getting bored with watching her life flash before her eyes, Rogue looked around for something to occupy her attention. She turned her gaze to Remy. (_so French!)_ His perpetual, intentionally sexy smirk was gone, replaced by a hard line. The muscles in his jaw were tense. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. His eyes were still covered by his thick sunglasses, but she could imagine them filled with trepidation, maybe even a little bit of fear. A drip of sweat ran down his temple and down his chiseled cheek. _Perrrdy,_ she thought to herself. She turned her head to look straight forward at the windshield, trying to keep herself from staring like a starstruck schoolgirl. Asphalt, asphalt, asphalt, cigarette butt, asphalt, asphalt, ooo, a coke can! Sighing in frustration, she glanced back at her kidnapper. _Ehh, fuck it. _She leaned over and flipped on the radio, turning to her country station.

"_Sleepy sweet home Alabama, roll tide roll, muddy water, Mississippi, blessed graceland whispers to me – "_

"GODDAMN IT!"

"What? What! What's de matter!" The Cajun looked over at her in alarm.

"They gotta be shittin' me! Ah've been tryin' ta listen ta this song all day, and Ah catch the end of it!"

Remy exhaled deeply, deflating against the steering wheel. "Yeah, well, Murphy's law's _une_ _salope neh?" _

"Shaddup."

"_Carry on, carry on, sweet southern comfort carry on..." _

The twang of the banjo slowed its tempo as the fiddle slid its last few notes. Rogue pouted when the music faded completely for exactly three seconds until the next song began. It was faster than the last one, with a more driving, upbeat rhythm. "OOO, Ah love this song!"

Remy chuckled while jerking the steering wheel hard to the right as the intro continued. Behind him, a cop leaned out of a passenger-side window with one of those high-tec megaphones, yelling at him to pull over. Remy turned up the volume a little louder.

When the deep voice of Toby Keith began singing, Remy began singing along to the lyrics. Loud and obnoxiously. He arched his neck and waved his hand dramatically, exaggerating his facial expressions in a mocking impersonation of a cowboy. "_DON' MY BABY LOOK GOOD IN DEM BLUE JEANS? TIGHT ON TOP WIT' A BELLY BUTTON RING. A LITTLE TATTOO SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN SHE ONLY SHOWS TA ME!_" He winked suggestively at Rogue, who began howling with laughter.

Two cars were driving side by side down the street, blocking their path. Remy jerked into the lane for oncoming traffic, right in front of an approaching semi. The truck honked, and Remy swerved back into the right lane just in time, missing one of the car's bumper by an inch.

"_YEAH, WE'RE GOIN' OUT DANCIN', SHE'S READY TONIGHT. SO DAMN GOOD LOOKIN' IT AIN'T EVEN RIGHT!_" Remy took both hands off of the wheel to fling into the air, feigning distress. Rogue yelped and dove toward the steering wheel, but Remy slapped his hands back on it, putting weight on them and turning his body to look at her. Dipping his head, he whispered energetically, "_And when the bartender says for the lady 'What's it gonna beeeeee?'..." _he leaned in, "_ ...I tell him, man!"_

The hummer skid across three lanes of traffic and headed down a ramp onto the freeway.

"_SHE AIN'T INTO WINE AN' ROSES, BEER JUST MAKES HER TURN UP HER NOSE AN', SHE CAN' STAND DE T'OUGHT OF SIPPIN' CHAMPAGNE!" _

Rogue joined in, yelling intentionally off key. "_NO CUERVE, GOLD MARGARITAS, JUST AIN'T ENOUGH GOOD BURN IN TEQUILA, SHE NEEDS SOMETHIN' WITH A LITTLE MORE EDGE AND A LITTLE MORE PAIN!_" They simultaneously flew their hands to their chests, their elbows hitting one another. "OW!" Rogue broke into giggles, trying in vain to form the words around the laughter.

Their hum-v continued to accelerate, the speedometer needle passing through the three digit mark.

"_SHE'S MY LITTLE WHISKEY GIRL_,_ She's My Little Whiskey Girl, my ragged on the edges girl..._" They faded into a hushed whisper. "_Ah, but I like em __**ROUGH**__!_" Screaming the last part, they both broke into a fit of laughter.

They skidded into the shoulder to pass a truck, creating a rooster-tail of gravel behind them.

Remy had recovered by the end of the instrumental section and started on the next verse. "_Baby got a '69 mustang, foot on de floor an' you outghtta hear de pipes ring, I ..nuh nuh naah nuh ...and it's ...way we go..." _

Rogue snorted amidst her continuous tittering, slapping her palms to her forehead. She helped him out on the rest of the lyrics. _"Hey I drive too fast, but she don't care_..." she grabbed a packet of gum from the ashtray and chucked it at him. "_Blue bandana tied all up in her hair, just sittin there, Singin' every song on the radioooooo!"_ Their voices slid up a few keys on that last syllable.

They continued to dive in and out of traffic, back and forth, back and forth, waving at the startled drivers they passed by...well, Rogue had a bit of an altered, one finger wave.

A police car crept up to the side of them again, the uniform riding shotgun brandished a ...well, a shotgun ...and pointed it at Remy. It was purely an act of intimidation – it would be a bit pointless to be chasing after a hostage if they were going to end up having her killed– but the two of them didn't even notice. Remy pushed the hummer into the blue-and-white's lane, forcing it to fall back, but not before the officer had gotten a good look at the hostage...arching her spine, head tilted back with her mouth stretched wide open, screaming something unintelligible. The speakers crackled as he picked up the radio system. "C-22b to station: just caught sight of the hostage. She's being tortured. Possible serious injury. I repeat..."

Back in the hummer, Remy and Rogue were repeating the chorus with fervor. They had begun incorporating sign language into their performance. As neither of them actually knew sign language, they just made it up as they went along, flapping their hands everywhere. Remy skid the vehicle sideways, cutting off a school bus which began to hobble to and fro, turning slightly sideways. When the bus successfully blocked all of the cop cars, Remy made a quick slip onto an exit ramp.

"...SHE'S MY RAGGED ON THE EDGES GIRL, AH BUT I LIKE EM ROUGH!..."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Professor, professor! You, like, have to do something! She's out there with a crazy man, defenseless, scared out of her mind! They're probably half way to China now or something!" Kitty rushed into Professor Xavier's office, not even bothering to open the door.

Xavier was at his desk, reorganizing the student files. He looked up as Kitty burst through the wall, yelling like a banshee. Well, not _quite_ as loud as Banshee, who was currently upstairs in his room, cramming for a math test. He watched with placid eyes as the door crashed open a moment after, emitting Bobby and Piotr, who screeched to a halt behind Kitty, breathing heavily.

"And... of whom are we talking?" The world's most powerful telepath folded his hands on top of the folder resting on his desk and looked up at them with calm expectancy.

"ROGUE! We totally found her outside with a gun pointed at her head!" Kitty exploded.

"Um...ah, Kitty, I zink it vas more of a knife?" Piotr hesitantly broke in, speaking as softly as a man his size was able.

"What_ever_! She was captured! Do you think it was mutant related, professor?" She bounced a little on her heels, raising her knuckles to touch her lips.

Xavier looked out of the window, his forehead wrinkling in concern. Sighing, he turned back to his students. "We have no way of knowing right now. Did you see what provoked this kidnaping? What had Rogue been doing at the time of her capture?"

The three teenagers looked at each other. "We dunno," Bobby answered sheepishly.

Xavier's eyebrows rose. "You were not with her at the time?"

Kitty snorted. "No. She was off doing her own thing. We were waiting for her, but she, like, never showed, and then Pete looked outside and saw this guy holding Rogue at gunpoint..."

"...knife..." Piotr interjected in a whisper.

"... and we were like, 'oh my gosh!' and then he stole Mr. Summer's car, and then this, like, whole car chase started – it was so totally intense! – and then we tried going after them, but the cops were like, 'no, you gotta stay here!" and then we called a cab and came back here to tell you!" Kitty bent over and sucked in a huge gulp of air. "And yeah, that was, like, it."

"Ah. And who was supposed to be supervising you?"

The teens looked at each other again before mumbling in unison, "Mr. Summers."

At that moment, Scott walked through the door. He stopped in his tracks as four sets of eyes glued to him. "Professor?"

"Scott, where were you when all this was happening?" the professor asked calmly.

He raised his head indignantly. "Me? _I_ was at the assigned meeting place, gathering the kids to go home! This wouldn't have happened if that girl could have followed the rules for once in her life!"

"Alright, Scott, alright. What has happened has happened, and now our duty is to put forth all our efforts into getting Rogue out of danger. Scott, will you search for any news coverage to see if we can ascertain the current condition of everything? I shall make a visit to Cerebro." He paused. " Thank you, children; you all faced this troubling occurrence with maturity. We'll handle this for now."

At the obvious dismissal, the three teens reluctantly turned and piled out of the office. They walked together down the warmly lit hallway, the unspoken tension and worry between them thick as smog.

"_Ya ochen eespoogan dlya nyeyo. _I hope zey find her," Piotr said solemnly.

"They will, Petey, they're the X-men; they can do anything." Kitty leaned her head on the top of his bicep (not being able to reach his shoulder) causing Piotr's heart to thump faster and his palms to sweat. "Poor Rogue. She's probably freaking out real bad about now."

"Oh mah GAWD!" Rogue writhed in her seat, twisting up the seatbelt. "You cannot be _serious!_ How can ya _like_ this crap?" she pushed violently against her ears with her hands. "Yeeck!"

"_Quoi?_ It's good music!" Remy spun the volume dial so ICP was blaring out of the speakers, the base vibrating through Rogue's seat. "It's my...shall w'say, 'get-away music."

"It's crap." Rogue reached to change the station, but Remy pushed her hand away.

"'ey now!" He cupped the dial so she couldn't touch it, but she grabbed his wrist with one hand and pried his fingers away with the other. "Quit it!" He slapped at her hands. Taking the packet of gum she had hit him with earlier, he chucked it at her. "Away, beast!"

"No, Beast doesn't condone chewing gum. Rots the teeth and causes stomach acidity to rise." Rogue explained.

"Huh?" During his moment of confusion, Rogue took the opportunity to switch the dial.

"Yes!" She celebrated with a bit of white-girl dancing. That is, until Britney Spear's 'Toxic' began playing.

"AHHHH!" they both uniformly shrieked. Rogue covered her head with her arms and ducked down to hide between her knees, while Remy began making gargling noises and pretended to die a slow, horrific death. "Turn it off, turn it off!"

Finally, Rogue slammed her fist on the volume dial, effectively turning the radio off. The hum of silence filled the car and the two of them remained frozen, blinking rapidly. Then Rogue sagged. "Pheww! That was a close one!"

"_Oui. _Mebbe dat's enough music fo' now."

"Yeah."

Remy continued to turn frequently onto smaller and smaller roads. On a back street, littered with the types of trash hobos dream about, he turned the Hum-v into a dark alleyway. The big lug of a car almost didn't fit. He turned off the engine, and opened his door, which scrapped against the molding brick wall.

Rogue remained seated in the car. Alleys and lone women didn't mix very well.

Remy was walking down the damp pathway. He stopped and turned back to the car. "Get over here, hostage!"

"What are we doin'?" Rogue yelled out the window.

"Gettin' ourselves a new get-away car."

Rogue opened the door and slid out, glad to be finally free of the stupid yellow excuse-of-a-Hummer. She tentatively walked up to him, and he smiled, presenting her his arm. She just stared at it.

"C'mon, _chere_. I'll letcha pick de car."

Rogue blew out a lungful of air and began walking, ignoring his offered arm.

Remy led them to the end of the alleyway and turned left. Rogue had to squint against the sudden glare of sunlight. She followed him as he walked along the busy street, swaying to avoid the people walking past. Rogue fought the urge to hunch her shoulders and duck her head, knowing her paranoia was ridiculous. Remy stopped for a second, tilting his head as if pondering something. Looking around him, he finally nodded and headed toward a physical fitness centre. On closer inspection, Rogue found that it was one of those expensive private gyms that are frequented by lawyers and the wives of doctors, working out for the sole purpose of looking good in a suit. Remy passed the front door, moving straight to large parking lot situated in back of the building. When he reached the centre of the lot, he stopped, turning in a circle. He whistled. "Quite a selection."

Rogue eyed the variety of corvettes and porches. A few Jaguars. A lone housewife van. Another blasted Hummer. After strolling up and down the rows for a minute, she walked back to Remy, who was currently drooling over a red Ferrari. She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Made your choice, _ma cherie?_" He inched a little closer to the Ferrari.

She nodded and pointed to a little silver Honda Civic in the corner. Remy's face fell, and his right nostril twitched. "Ya sure, _beb?_"

She smirked with one corner of her lips and nodded again. Remy shook his head, muttering to himself in French as he walked over to the Civic. Rogue leaned in curiously to watch him pull out his lock picks and fiddle with the lock on the side. Within moments, there was a click, and he opened the door. He slid in gracefully and popped the lock to the passenger-side door for Rogue. She walked around the back of the car, noting the license plate number, but seeing no funny hidden words, she climbed into the car. Remy was sticking an intricate looking metal stick into the ignition, moving it around with little scraping sounds.

"Why didn't ya do that the first time?" she asked curiously.

Remy didn't look up from his task. "Takes too long. Hot-wiring may be easy, but it hurt de car. Dis' will keep us fo' a while...Dere." He detached the long stick and pulled it out, leaving an inscrutable piece of metal in the lock. "Now, alls I need t'do t'start de engine is t'stick in dis –" he gestured with the stick, "an' pick de lock. Plus, no one else can touch it, shorta cuttin' de wires." He proceeded to jiggle the stick into the ignition to show her. After positioning it just right, he turned it and the engine roared to life. He glanced at her to see if she was impressed. Her face was deadpan. "Hoookay. Time ta go." He backed out of the parking space, taking one last look at the Ferrari, and sped out of the parking lot, their car disappearing into the afternoon rush hour.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Translations: (some are dirty; if your ears are sensitive, you may be better off making up your own version.)

_Petite cocotte, tu va-t a la merde – _little cunt, you can go to hell (literally 'go to shit')

_ce n'est rien_ – it's nothing _(nuthin')_

_une_ _salope_ – a bitch

_Ya ochen eespoogan dlya nyeyo_ – it's how you say 'I am very frightened for her' in Russian.


	4. Cowboy, Take Me Away

Disclaimer: (going really creative this time) I don't own the X-men.

Three challenges down, one to go. Yeehaw! I've 'gone country' in the worst way because of this fic. Throughout the Christmas Season, my family had to cope with hearing Whiskey Girl and Sweet Southern Comfort over and over again so I could get the timing right in the chase scene.

The title of this chapter is a song by the Dixie Chicks.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You keep this story alive more than my own nimble fingers. There were a few comments made that I will try to address within the story. Criticism is always welcome! In fact, I encourage it!

Cowboy, Take Me Away

The sub-basement of the Xavier Institute was state of the art in all senses of the word. Fire and bomb resistant. Adamantium-laced walls. Cyclical air-conditioners which could filter oxygen through the rooms for over a month for up to 50 people should the facility be shut off from the rest of the world during an emergency. It housed a garage for a variety of cars, motorcycles- even helicopters and jets. A med bay, comparable to any top hospital in the country. Not to mention the Danger Room and Cerebro. The halls, an endless array of shiny metal, though indisputably impressive, was not very ...as many X-men often noted... comforting. No paintings of wild flowers adorned the walls, no decorative plants on wooden tables in the corner, no plush chairs or rugs. Indeed, no colour whatsoever. The only accessories the sub-basement had to offer were rows of glass tubing, which displayed the official X-men uniforms. Imposing black leather, identical save for the slight alterations for each member: Storm's cape, Cyclops' visor, the holes for Woverine's claws, Nightcrawler's...odd body shape. As one would enter the main hall through a small elevator, these uniforms were the first things he would see.

However, one tube was empty; the highlight shut off, casting a gloomy shadow within. This is where Scott sat, weeping silently. His back pressed against the cold glass; his head resting against his knees, covered by his folded arms. He whispered continuously, harsh and softly, "_Jean._.._oh Jean!...my love, I'm so sorry!" _

The doors to Cerebro began to open with a long sound of suctioned air being released. Scott started and scrambled clumsily to his feet, scrubbing his cheeks harshly and wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans, which were already damp from fallen tears. The Professor's wheelchair made no noise against the metal flooring as it rolled out into the hallway. Scott approached, the muscles in his jaw flexing visibly.

"Did you find her?" Scott asked without preamble, his voice strained.

The Professor noted the roughness to his voice and the red blotches in his cheeks, but knew better than to remark upon the boy's obvious pain. He knew sympathetic condolences were not welcomed. "No," he replied softly. "I can find no trace of her. I suspect Rogue's kidnapper may be a mutant himself: one with impressive mental shields, which would block any readings from Cerebro. If these shields are strong enough, they could easily incorporate any mutants around him, effectively hiding them as well. That is the only reason I can think of to explain Rogue's sudden disappearance from the map."

Scott thought for a moment, testing the theory out in his mind. "But Professor, wouldn't the same thing happen if Rogue was..." he stopped, unable to voice his fears.

Xavier's eyes were hard as they met Scott's. "I refuse to accept that as an option."

It was well past six o'clock when the Civic entered the city limits once more. The sun had set a while ago, leaving only the millions of artificial stars caused by the reflections of distant windows and street lamps to light the world. It had been over an hour since they had last seen a cop. Remy had driven through residential streets, laughing at the neighborhood dogs who tried to chase their bumper as well as cruised through different business districts where he would then imitate the local businessmen passing by. The entertainment was priceless, Rogue thought, as she once again snorted coke out through her nose while trying to contain her laughter. Shortly after leaving the city, Remy had stopped at a McDonald's to buy them dinner.

"Y better slow down w'dat cheeseburger, _chere_. Don' wanna get sick in dis beau'ful, new..." His voice lowered forlornly, "Honda...now do ya?"

"Oh, will ya quit it? We were _not_ gonna take that Ferrari on a car chase with the law after our butts! That woulda been suicide!"

"It drives real good, _fille,_ reeeal good."

"Not when the cops can trace us anywhere we go! I mean, how conspicuous can ya get? How we supposed ta hide while drivin' a red male orgasm with _bigpapa _written on the vanity plate?"

"Dey do it in de comic books all de time."

"Remy, hate to tell ya this, but we ain't in no comic book."

"Sure 'bout dat, _p'tite?" _He looked over at her, his eyebrows wagging teasingly over his shades.

"Well, the last time Ah tried, Ah couldn't fly, and Ah sure as hell ain't invincible, so forgive me if Ah'm a bit skeptical."

Remy chuckled, gazing out over the horizon of skyscrapers. Ahead, a police car sped into view, its lights blaring harshly against the darkness. Remy's right hand hovered over the stick between them, ready to shift into a higher gear. Both heaved heavy sighs of relief as the car zoomed past them and disappeared into the night. "So...where y' live, _chere?"_

Rogue automatically tensed up. _This can't be a good sign. Is he gonna put me up for ransom, or does he just need to know where to send the severed body parts?_

Remy caught her reaction and added, "Can' drop y' home if I don' know where t'go."

"...Oh..." Rogue thought about the mansion. The kind Professor and all her helpful teachers. Her friends. Logan. She opened her mouth to give the address but stopped when the sudden, familiar wave of despair hit her. Did she really want to go back there? Surrounded day and night by people who treated her like glass?...or perhaps more like a pet cobra, she added mentally, remembering the flinches she got from people if she got too close, or the consistent looks of sympathy that failed to mask a deeper anxiety she could read in their eyes. But...they were good people, with a good dream. She should feel blessed being a part of it all. She should be grateful...but she wasn't. She wasn't grateful or thankful or happy. She struggled every morning just to get out of bed. She sat in her classes, staring out of the window and wished she was far away, swimming with the dolphins at Seaworld or driving a motorcycle through a ring of fire down in Texas. She felt suffocated with the X-men – Hell, she felt suffocated with the entire world! Her mutation kept her from truly living with the rest of the population. There was always this protective bubble around her, keeping her from _everyone _else. Did she really want to go back to the only people who would probably ever accept her?

Remy watched the girl out of the corner of his eye, keeping silent while she continued to struggle with her thoughts.

After looking down at her gloves for a while, she inhaled deeply and raised her eyes to his. "Actually, if ya don't mind...could ya drive me to the airport?"

He stared at her a moment, his face void of emotion. Then he nodded. "Sure, _ma cherie, pas de problem,"_ he said softly. They didn't talk after that, deciding to lose themselves in their own private worlds instead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_If you really wanted to help your friends, you should have just jumped off a cliff or something._

_Why the hell would she want to do that? She's a menace, sure, and she certainly couldn't stick around as eye candy, but no need to be rash; she could just run away._

_Do you really think she is ever going to be able to stay out of trouble? With that curse she calls a mutation, she'll never be safe for society._

_Shut up!_

_No one is ever going to love you. How can they? _

_Remember that boy she tried to kiss? What ever happened to him?_

_Ah'm right here, fire fag, and thanks to her, Mah body's still in a coma. She ruined mah life!_

_Did you hear that, Rogue? You don't just steal from people who care about you, you DESTROY them!_

_Shut up._

_Or how you almost killed Logan that night._

_Ya shoulda let me impale ya. It woulda saved us all a lota grief. _

_Y'okay, chere?_

_And you were stupid enough to let me kiss you. Didn't you learn anything the first time with Cody? _

_Shut up._

Hey, y'hear me, fille? You alright?

_You just gonna keep on killing people for ya own selfish pleasure, that it?_

_Shut up!_

_Vampire!_

"Hey_...beb?"_

A hand gripped her shoulder, bringing Rogue out of her deep reverie. She instinctively jerked away from it, her own gloved hand smacking it away.

Remy looked at the wide-eyed girl with a neutral expression and dropped his hand. "Y'alright?"

Rogue looked around her, realizing they were stopped at a red light, the expansive John F. Kennedy airport visible only a few miles away.

"Um... yeah. Sorry. Just got a bit of a headache."

The man beside her nodded slightly, still eyeing her.

"Ya really lettin' me go?" she couldn't help but ask in an incredulous tone.

He smiled at her then. A full, dazzling, sex-gods-tremble-before-me smile. "Why sure, _ma cherie._ We helped each ot'er outta some rough spots, _non?_ It really de least I can do. Y'sure was a fun hostage to have around, dough. 'ppreciate de entertainment."

Rogue smiled slightly, bringing her feet up on the seat and wrapping her arms around her legs. "What are ya gonna do now, with this sweet new ride of yours?" she rested her cheek on her knees.

Remy snorted. "I got some work t'catch up on. Den, I'll prob'ly leave de state...take a li'l road trip."

"Ah bet," Rogue said through a smirk.

They reached the airport a few minutes later and pulled into a long line of parked cars in front of a large group of revolving doors. Below the sign reading "pick up/drop off" was a mass of people, lounging about while slowly inhaling on cigarettes or hustling about, juggling oversized luggage and hyperactive children. A man in security uniform was yelling out directions unintelligibly.

"Well, dis be de end of de tour, _mam'selle. _We at de Lebeau's Chauffeur co. do hope y'have a wonderful day an' a safe journey to wherever y'heart's desire be...please watch y'step as you exit de vehicle." Remy threw the car into park and gave Rogue a smile which she returned in full.

"Thank ya, Remy. For everythang. For savin' mah butt and showin' me the best time of mah life." She looked down to her hands, suddenly reluctant to leave.

"No need f'dat, _chere_; it always be Remy's pleasure t'escort lovely _femmes_ around." His open hand entered Rogue's vision, and she reached out to shake it, but he caught her fingers and raised her hand to his lips, brushing them lightly over her knuckles. Rogue was mortified to feel her face heat up like a furnace. She tilted her head down, hoping the wide brim of her hat would hide her flaming cheeks. Remy lifted the corner of her hat up and ducked his head to peek under. Giving her a crooked smile, he whispered softly in her ear, "see y'around, _d'accord?_"

Rogue's throat constricted as his warm breath hit her neck. She pulled away, nodding dumbly, and opened the door a bit more forcefully than she intended. After yanking her numerous shopping bags out of the backseat, she stood on the pavement, unsure of what to do next. She waved awkwardly at the mysterious man watching her with his arm leaning on the steering wheel, then turned and headed into the crowd, pushing for the doors that would lead her to the rest of her life.

Remy stared at the spot where the strange girl had been swept up by the mass of moving travelers. _Qu'une fille interessant. _He looked blankly at the steering wheel in front of him for a few minutes, letting his mind wander aimlessly. He blinked a few times before shaking his head roughly to clear his mind. _Boy, y'gotta stop wit' de day dreamin'. Y'got work t'do. _He shifted the Civic into gear and was preparing to slip into the heavy traffic of departing vehicles when he heard a light tap on the passenger side window. Looking over, Remy saw the girl, bent over to look through the glass at him, biting her lip nervously. He kept the shock from leaking into his expression and leaned his elbow on the button to let the window slide open. "_'_ello...again_."_

The girl looked like she was about to turn and run back into the airport, but she cleared her throat and drawled out with an impressive amount of bravado, "well, Ah got ta thinkin'...and what kinda hostage would I be ta pimp out on ya this early? Thought ya could do with an extra pair of hands...keep ya out of trouble." She paused. "That is...if ya wouldn't mind the company?" Again, her insecurity bled through her sparkling green eyes and Remy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like a maniac. He knew it was a bad idea – a dangerous idea – to have the girl stick around, but he also knew he would ultimately give in to the idea and keep her around, so he didn't even both to fight the urge. Besides, common sense had never stopped him before.

"Naw, I wouldn't mind too much. 'Sides, I always wanted a side-kick. All de lone superheroes never have any fun by demselves."

A brilliant smile lit up the _fille's_ face, causing her eyes to sparkle all the more. _Damn, dose are some bright eyes._ She quickly stuffed her bags in the back and hopped smoothly into the car through the open window. "Well, what are ya waitin' for? Let's roll!" she kicked her boots on top of the glove compartment and crossed her legs as she leaned into her seat.

Remy chuckled, shaking his head. "As m'lady commands." He swung the car out into the road, cutting off a tour bus, but neither of them heard the furious honking from the cranky old driver over the deafening squeal of the Honda's wheels.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

_What were you thinking, trying to be like a normal human. You're a freak; you can never be like them._

"So, _ma cherie_, what is y'name anyway?"

Rogue's eyes snapped open, rolling to meet the Cajun's through her fingers as her hands were splayed over her face. "Huh?"

"_Ton nom, p'tite. _'Less y'want, Remy should make somet'in' up himself t'call ya. I's real creative dat way..." Remy waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ugh, don't be ruinin' my virgin ears with yah dirty mind!" Rogue grabbed the brim of her hat with both hands and bent it down over her ears.

"What, y'don' trust Remy's...artistic creativity?"

"Yah _what?_ Is that what you kids are callin' it these days?"

"_Chere!_ Y'astound me! Whatever led y'ta t'ink I had anyt'in' but de most gentlemanly of intentions? Why," he began gesturing with his hands, "t' be honoured de task of namin' such _une belle fleur_ as you! T'be able t'place a single word 'pon y'soft, creamy femininity. T'caress _avec la langue _along y'plush–"

"A'ight, ya best shut those lips of yahs and leave mah creamy femininity alone if ya don't want the remains of yah carcass ta be cooked inta this year's holiday pot roast!"

"Oo, _ma moufette epicee,_ you _tres _sexy when y'mad!"

"An' you're annoyin' when yo' suicidal!" she growled back at him.

Remy tilted his head back and laughed. "Boy, jus' look at dem cheeks glow!"

"Arrghh!" Rogue twisted in her seat and began slapping Remy's shoulder with both hands over and over. "You..stupid...swamp rat.."

"Ow..ah...ehhh!..." Remy ducked his head between his shoulders in attempt to ward off the blows, causing the car to swerve dangerously.

"Gonna...make...me...ill!..."

"Y'crazy woman!"

During their little scuffle, the tip of Rogue's thumb managed to catch under the rim of Remy's glasses, causing them to flip off his face, sail through the air, and lodge themselves deep in between the seats.

"Fuck!" Remy reacted violently, raising his right arm to shield his eyes from her. "Ahh...fuck," he trailed off as he peeked under his elbow to search for his shades.

"Hey, don't have a cow; they're right here." Rogue plunged her hand down in the space between the seats. After fumbling around for a moment, she grunted in frustration and pulled her hand out again, using her teeth to pull off her glove. Stuffing her bare hand back into the cramped space, she added, "'sides, the sun went down hours ago. Ain't it a little late to be attemptin' the whole badass greaser look?"

"Got sensitive eyes," Remy mumbled, keeping his face turned away from her.

Rogue frowned, noticing his odd behavior. Her fingers touched cold plastic, and she yanked out his glasses. "There ya are, little bugger." With a laughing smile, she picked off some lint stuck to the lenses and offered them back to Remy. As his hand snaked over haphazardly to grab them from her, she noticed that somewhere along the way, he had taken off his gloves. Just as his bare fingers were about to brush against her own, Rogue freaked and threw the glasses at him while retreating as far against the passenger side door as possible.

Remy started as the sunglasses hit his chest and fell into his lap. He risked a glance over to the girl beside him, but her head was facing the window, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Shaking his head a little, he slipped the shades back on and took a deep breath. Not knowing what to say, he kept silent.

"Rogue," the girl said quietly a few minutes later.

Remy's eyes shifted back and forth a few times. "_Excusez-moi?"_

"My name," she said slowly, "is Rogue."

A slow, shit-eating smile spread across his face. "Rogue." He played it across his tongue. "How mysterious. Got a last name t'go wit' dat?" Rogue just stared at him, so he continued, "Well, _enchante, _Rogue. _Je m'appelle _Remy Lebeau."

"Yeah, I got that from all the talking in third person. Think swamp rat suits ya better, though." Rogue smirked at his exaggerated look of offense. "So, are we gonna keep drivin' all night, or are we gonna hole up somewhere?"

"Dere's a little motel up a ways dat's expectin' me. We should get dere b'fore midnight."

"Expectin' ya? Don't tell me you were plannin' a little race 'round town with the police?"

"_Non_, actually, I don' like pissin' off de cops in Manhattan. Dey a buncha real cranks. If y'wan' a real car chase, get yoself down t'good ole N'Awlins durin' Mardi Gras. Hooo weee! Dere's a time f'ya!"

Rogue laughed, turning to face the Cajun, but when she saw the utter seriousness in his expression– and a tiny bit of sincere wistfulness– her laughter cut off abruptly and she was left gaping at his perfect profile. Eyes wide, mouth shaping into a little 'o', she turned her head slowly to stare ahead at the road ahead of them and gulped deeply. _What have a got myself into?_

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Translations: (note: there are some accent marks in some of the words that I have omitted, mainly because they are a hassle to put in. An example is the well known for ROMY fans: _chere _is actually spelled _chère_ )

_Qu'une fille interessant: _what an interesting girl

_une belle fleur_: a beautiful flower

_avec la langue _: with language

_ma moufette epicee_: my spicy skunk. (Sorry, just could not resist!)

_Excusez-moi_: excuse me

_enchante.._. _Je m'appelle _: enchanted. (Nice ta meetcha)...my name is


	5. And The Fire Ignites!

**Disclaimer: **Je ne possède pas les X-men.

Here is the next update, in Ish's words, quick as a bunny on crack.

For Clarification: Rogue and Bobby are currently still 'dating.' (For now. ) I've observed many highschool courtships that are pretty much just a title and an excuse to fool around. (not that these two could be accused of that) Though there are many deep and emotionally taxing teenage relationships out there, there are just as many shallow ones. My excuse for Rogue is that she wants to be accepted as a normal teen, so she grabs onto whatever she can. Bobby...just wants to be able to walk around with a pretty girl. ;)

**And The Fireworks Ignite**

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_The winter is just ending in the southern region of what they force us to call the Lesser Poland Voivodship. Mercifully, the snows have disappeared, though they have been quickly replaced by thick rains that leave us soaked and freezing in our tattered coats. The harsh winds bite at our bare faces as we continue to march in an ungraceful herd to wherever they are taking us. It has been days since I have seen my home. Days since I was stripped of my pack and pushed along with my neighbors into a filthy train with remnants of cattle. Days since I have seen my dear sister, and days since I have been given something to eat. _

_My mother shivers beside me, and I reach over to place my palm against her cheek. I have little heat to offer her, but she smiles up at me and covers my hand with her own. Her burning tears run down my fingers, mingling with soot and blood. _

"_It vill be alright, _Matka_. God vill protect us if ve are strong."_

"_Oh, my Eric, my angel. How vill ve survive zis? I fear zat God has abandoned us!"_

_I am silenced by my mother's words. They are painful to my ears, filled with a hopelessness and surrender that shatters my heart. Looking forward, I see the men who circle around us. They are very threatening with their big guns and soulless eyes. They yell out commands that we cannot understand, and beat us with the ends of those big guns when we do not obey their alien demands. _

_Ahead of us – so far yet ahead of us; I can barely make it out through the thick blanket of raindrops– there is a long stretch of wall. Even as just a pinpoint in the distance, I can tell that it is huge. A massive black cloud of smoke rises from it, fading into the dark sky. All of our eyes latch onto it. We dare not look away lest it would fade back into the unbroken stretch of wilderness that has surrounded us for hours and hours. I feel a small amount of energy return to my legs as the invisible arms of my soul stretch out to the lone landmark. Please, let this be our destination! I am so tired! _

_An old man –the baker down the street from my school. Yes, I recognize him now!– stumbles forward, grabbing onto a young woman near him. Unable to support his weight, she scurries away, her fearful eyes traveling over the guards around us. The man falls to his knees. From where I stand, I can hear him wheeze. Trembling, the man lowers his body into the mud. His lips move in silent prayer. We are not allowed to stop. We trample upon him, those big guns waving in our faces, forcing us to turn our ears away from his pleading screams. _

_In a trance, we finally approach the wall. It is tall and thick. More men with guns sneer down at us over their high perch. An iron gate with a web of chains the width of my wrist wrapped through the bars swings open slowly and silently. I wrap my arms around my mother as we enter, passing over a sign bearing the engraved word _Auschwitz_. The first thing to greet us was the overpowering scent of charred flesh._

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Rogue was suffocating on the heavy ash which filled her lungs. She shut her eyes tight against the burning smoke as she reached out frantically to the withered hand of the last of her family.

There was a tap on her shoulder. "We's here, _cherie._"

Rogue's eyelids snapped open as she jolted forward in her seat screaming, "_Matka_!" Breathing heavily, she looked about, realizing that she was still in the Honda with the strange Cajun man sitting beside her.

Remy's eyebrows arched highly on his forehead. He regarded her with a calm face, his arm draped on top of the steering wheel.

Sheepishly, she gave him a hollow smile, forcing a laugh. "Er...bad dream."

"_Vraiment_?" he asked in subdued playfulness. "We at de motel."

Rogue turned her head quickly to peek out the window, grateful for the excuse to look away from him. "Oh, ah...yeah, so we are."

The motel was a small, vacant stretch of red-brick building two stories high. It was...a little worse for wear, Rogue noted in the kindest way possible. Lacking an actual name, the crooked sign above them greeted the guests with a simple 'MOTEL: VACANCY' in neon green lettres. The 'e' and 'n' had burnt out.

Wary, Rogue slowly unlocked her door and stepped out into the cold, keeping her back plastered to the side of the car. Remy stepped around the car with his usual confident sway and leaned in next to her, reaching across to grab her bags from the back seat. As Rogue inhaled sharply, pressing even further into the Civic, Remy smiled cockily at her nervousness. He lingered a moment longer then necessary, then pushed up, swung around, and bounced toward the front office without looking back. Rogue blew out the lungful of air that she had been holding and glared at his retreating back, grumbling under her breath, "Keep on doin' that, Frenchie. Let's see how ya like the chemistry after Ah lean back." Slamming the door shut, she folded her arms tightly across her chest and followed after him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The tiny office was grimy and smelled of mildew. Used kleenex and empty soda cans littered the perimeter. Rogue peeked her head inside the screen door, which didn't shut all the way. She watched as Remy sauntered up to the desk and danced his fingers over the service bell in front of him. The piercing jingle echoed around the room.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on," rumbled a deep, scratchy voice from the back room. A bald man with three plump, wobbling chins and a greasy wife beater stumbled into the room, wiping a dishrag over his red face. "What the hell do you want?"

"'ey now, Burt, dat anyway t'greet yo' best sellin' costumer?"

"Oh, it's just you. You're later than usual – didn't think you were going to show. Your room's all set up. You know where the key is." With that, the man turned unsteadily and retreated back into the smoky room behind him.

"T'anks, honey bunch. You a real doll." Gambit drawled, reaching over the desk to yank a key off of a wall of pegs. Ignoring the muffled curses in the background, he spun on his heels and walked outside. "Dis way."

The motel room, situated on the lower end of the building, was small and cramped. There was barely room for the two twin sized beds with clashing bed sheets to be stuffed in each corner, a small table wedged between them. A dresser, slightly crooked and missing the bottom shelf, was leaning against the far wall, next to an entryway leading to a tiny bathroom. Bent hinges were all that was left of the door. Meager as it was, it was surprisingly clean.

Rogue dropped her shopping bags next to the bed in the far corner and flopped down belly first onto the creaky mattress. Face stuffed in the putrid 70s patterned bedspread and appendages spread out wide, she allowed her body to relieve the stress built up from what was without a doubt, the strangest day she had ever lived through.

Somewhere above her, she heard Remy speak. "Looks like ol' Burty didn' get 'round t'fixin' dat door. Do me a favour, _chere_, keep dat position fo' a sec; I's gotta use de little girl's room." She felt his footsteps vibrate through the wooden floor as he crossed the room an entered the WC. She tried not to listen to the sounds of Remy relieving himself, but discovered that it was hardly a difficult task when she found herself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Mah heart's beatin' so fast, Ah can feel the blood burnin' through mah chest. Ah reach mah arms into the sky, mah shoulders pushin' against the weight of the thick padding. Mah fingers enclose around the football, slippin' slightly from the dew collected on it. Ah force mah legs ta keep pumpin'. The chalky line in the grass is so close! Durin' the remainin' stretch of field, mah mind focuses on the dull ache in the back of mah head. Mah helmet is too loose, causing it to slam down onto mah skull every step Ah take. There! Right in front of meh. Only a few feet ta go. Suddenly, a heavy force slams into mah back, makin' meh fly forward head first into the air. As Ah land, the breath is knocked outta meh as two hundred pounds of Jeffery Elliot's big nigga ass slams on top of meh. There was a long pause between the sickenin' crunch of mah left elbow and the searin' wave of pain to crash through my entire body. Ah scream_.

Rogue jerked awake, her entire body spasming on the bed. Breathing heavily, she cradled her elbow. The room was dark. Rogue could only barely make out the outlines of the furniture and the small crack of dim light from where the curtains parted against the window. She squinted her eyes, searching the area, but found the room barren of any smart-ass Cajuns. She lowered onto her back and splayed herself across the bed, arms and legs spread and dangling over the edges. She stretched deeply, releasing some of the tension through her mouth in a long groan. Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered if she should be afraid or not. Knowing the potential dangers of the situation, she tried to feel some butterflies in her stomach or produce some tears for the loss of her home and family and how they must be so worried, but she found herself slipping back into that state of apathy that had been following her for weeks. She just didn't care.

She continued to lie there, counting the mold spots above her for a few minutes, trying to remember the words to a poem she wrote in the eighth grade. Getting through the first seven or eight lines, her eyes drifted closed and she was once again pulled under the heavy influence of slumber.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next time she opened her eyes, a bright ray of sunlight hit her square in the face. Cursing, she slapped her hands over her eyes and growled. The sound of paper being crinkled in the corner caught her attention, so she turned over onto her stomach and spread her fingers into a 'v' to peek through them. Sitting cross-legged on top of the dresser was Remy, fiddling with one of her rolls of wrapping paper. The light green one with the little elf boots and ribbons on it. _Yuck._

"Yuck," she greeted him when he raised his head to look at her. She noticed that he was still wearing those stupid little sunglasses.

He smirked at her and shrugged, returning to his task of cutting a large strip from the roll with the same knife that had been digging into her neck the day before. "Where dis be goin', a li'l holiday spirit ain' gon do much harm. De entire company sees in shades of green." Throwing the tube onto the floor, Remy shifted the strip of paper to the side and grabbed a varnished wooden box from his lap. As he opened it, Rogue saw the inside was lined in red velvet with a plush cushion on the bottom. Nonchalantly, Remy reached into his trench and pulled something out of an inner pocket. It was large and red and sparkly.

When she realized what he held, Rogue gasped, choking on her own spit. Coughing violently, she scrambled to the edge of the bed on all fours and gaped at the ruby.

"S'pretty, _non?"_ Remy held the gem up into the light, causing colour to explode within it. His eyes cut to her, and with a crooked smile, he tossed it over to her.

Rogue yelped in surprise and fumbled with the ruby. Clutching it to her chest, she gave Remy a half-hearted sneer before looking down to examine the beautiful jewel. Turning it around in her hands, she watched the patterns of light shift within. Quickly, she stripped off her gloves to hold it in her bare hands. She was captivated by the smooth, cooling feel of it against her skin and the strips of light that danced upon her palm. She slid it across her skin, on the back of her hand, up the underside of her wrist. She placed her finger on the sharp tip and pressed down lightly. Holding it up into the ray of light that fell across her bed, she rotated it, watching little beams of crimson shoot out like a prism. Rogue's eyes followed a stream that hit Remy in the middle of his chest, noticing for the first time that he was watching her intently. Lowering her arm, she returned his gaze. "Neat," she stated casually.

He smiled slowly, crookedly. Her eyes latched onto his mouth and found herself almost as mesmerized by his lips as she was with the ruby. A long, thick pause followed, the two of them continuing to stare at each other.

Suddenly, Remy slid himself down from the dresser elegantly, his attention never leaving Rogue's face. He walked toward her slowly, the energy between them intensifying to an almost tangible level. Rogue's breath hitched in her throat as he approached the edge of the bed. Frozen, Rogue could only lean back onto her elbows and tilt her head up. Eyes wide, she swallowed deeply as he leaned over her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her hips. She felt the mattress sink as he brought his knees up and crawled onto the bed, practically straddling her thighs. He continued to lean into her and Rogue was forced to lower the small of her back into the covers to keep from touching him. She shuddered as she felt his hand snake up her waist, past the coat she had neglected to remove. His lips were inches away from her own. For a moment, staring into the reflective lenses of his shades, she thought she saw a red glow from beneath them, but her attention was diverted as his hand reached the side of her ribs and continued to slide up the side of her torso. His thumb brushed against the spaghetti strap of her dress, causing Rogue to snap out of her trance.

_Shit! _her mind spat. She bucked against him and pushed against his shoulders, scrambling backwards. She didn't stop until she hit the backboard, and even then she pressed against it as though she could melt into the woodwork.

Remy sat back on his heels and watched with an expressionless face as she hugged her legs to herself. Again, a thick silence filled the air as neither of them moved, however, this time the tension was considerably less pleasant.

Rogue looked down and bit her bottom lip for a moment before raising her eyes again, meeting his gaze. "Ah'm sorry," she whispered, "Ah just..."

_I told you, you should have killed yourself while you had the chance!_

_Vampire!_

"...can't."

Remy nodded slowly, taking a minute to search her face. Then his lips curved upward into a small yet mischievous smile and he grabbed the ruby, which had been discarded on the bed. Without preamble, he threw it high into the air, sending it flying toward the centre of the room. Quick as a flash, he leaned forward, using the momentum to lift up and whip his legs from under him. After landing in a crouching position, he immediately sprang up, flipping backward in the air. His hands hit the floor and his legs, straight and pressed together, wheeling like a perfect pendulum. He ended the flip on his feet, then pivoted on his heels to face the dresser. Grabbing the corner, he swung himself up onto the top of it, turning 180 degrees mid-jump. Landing in a squat, he reached his hand out in front of him and caught the ruby that fell into his hand.

_Well, that was...impressive._ Rogue felt compelled to clap and he responded with a slight bow. She was still pressed against the backboard, but much of her tension had been released. She watched him as he settled back into his cross-legged position and, after wiping it clean, placed the jewel into the box and closed the lid.

Remy began wrapping the box in the hideous wrapping paper. Before sealing the end, he reached into his coat and brought out a single playing card. The ace of spades. Slipping it into the wrapping, he began taping the present closed.

Curious, Rogue asked, "Why'd ya do that?"

Remy didn't look up from his task as he answered, "Dat be my callin' card."

"Oh." Rogue shifted on the bed. "Who ya sendin' it to?"

"Jus' some stingy organization wit a lotta extracurricular activity behind de 'sorry we're closed' sign. I try not t'get too involved. Dey prob'ly gon cut it up and sell it in pieces."

"That's a damn shame." She watched him as he slapped a red bow on top of the package. "You...do this a lot?"

Remy grinned at her. "_Mais, _we all need a profession, _non? _I's lucky. Sure beats sittin' behind a desk all day contemplatin' where my life went wrong while shufflin' progress reports!"

"Ah bet." Rogue stretched her legs out and began slipping her hands back inside her gloves. "Ya ain't a very good thief, are ya?" She ignored his look of astonishment and indignation. "Ah mean, ya got caught back there, settin' off all those alarms."

"_Chere_, I ain' de one who got caught."

Rogue blinked a few times before her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew twice as big. Gaping at him, she sputtered, "you..._you_ did that on purpose, didn't ya? Ya_ framed_ me! Auugh!" She threw a pillow at him. "Ya scumbag!"

Remy laughed as he ducked, his arms in front of him. "Oh, now _ma cherie,_ don' take it personally. Y'were just at de wrong place at de wrong time. How could I resist?"

Grumbling, Rogue crossed her arms. "Ain't settin' someone up then goin' through all that trouble ta save them anyways a bit...redundant?"

Remy turned his head to the side and scratched the back of his ear. "Well, dat ain't really de way it was gon go..."

"WHAT! Ya were just gonna leave me there!"

Squinting against the high pitch of her screeching, Remy held up his hands in a motion of surrender. "Well I saved y'in any case, so it don' matter none, does it? I was gon leave y'there, but den I heard dem all start accusin' y'of bein' a mutant. Didn't wanna leave ya t'dat fate. Too many people goin' all over, accusin' each ot'er of bein' mutants an' ruinin' lives everywhere dey go. It one big witch hunt out dere." He turned his face to her. "Didn't wanna leave such _une belle femme_ to de dogs."

Rogue tried to hold onto her anger, but seeing his puppydog look, she couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Yeah, well, Ah guess it don't matter. Ah'm here now.

Remy smiled broadly and promptly hoped down from his perch. "C'mon, we gotta get past de state line soon an' I gotta mail dis."

"Yer gonna _mail_ the _Rubi de Sang Royale?_ Are ya nuts?"

Remy tossed a smirk over his shoulder. "Special delivery service. Get y'shit." He opened the door and slithered out, leaving it ajar for her.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, Rogue gathered her stuff, opting to leave the opened roll of wrapping paper behind. Taking one last look around the crumbling room, she stepped outside, slamming the door behind her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Remy balanced on the ball of his foot and leaned back on his heels. He was crouched in front of the license plate, using a small screwdriver to exchange it with one he had bought last night. He'd had a damn hard time trying to find a black marketeer who would sell to him for the limited amount of money he had on him.

Rogue approached quietly, apparently deep in thought. Her brow was furrowed and her pretty eyes were glazed over. She stuffed her bags in the back seat through the open window and Remy leaned his upper body over a bit to admire her legs. She was a strange girl. Not a lot of women were able to resist his charm, and he had been so close to having her, he could still imagine her taste on his tongue. She casually rested her hip against the side of the car and watched him work, her face blank. A very strange girl.

Picking up the old license plate, he rose to his feet, looking around for someplace to dispose the piece of metal in his hand. "Be right back, _chere."_ He rounded the corner of the motel, into a small patch of trees. Holding up the license plate, he concentrated on it. Gradually, the familiar tingly heat which bordered on pain spread throughout is hands. The plate began to glow a bright pink and started to smoke. Remy threw it into the air. As it reached its apex, the plate exploded, lighting up the sky like a mini firework and sending a loud boom echoing through the area. Brushing his hands together, he turned on his heels and made his way back to the car.

"What the hell was that?" Rogue asked as he returned.

"Well... I t'ink it was some sort of explosion," Remy said innocently.

Rogue eyed him suspiciously, but did not comment. Whipping around, she began to make her way to her side of the car. Remy couldn't help but be disappointed that his view was interrupted by her long coat. Chuckling softly to himself, he sauntered over to the car, stretched one last time, then slid into the driver's seat. _Dis sure's gon be an interestin' road trip. _With that, he turned the ignition and drove out of the parking lot, heading south.


	6. Hunger Hurts

Alright, I've decided that this fic will be largely music-oriented. I'll construct a little soundtrack listing in my profile if you happen to be interested in the songs played in this story. My suggestion is to download the songs and listen to them while you read the scenes (I love doing it myself while reading others' works) so you can get the full tone intended.

Thank you to: Freak87 (for your merciless critiques and letting me steal your idea about Cerebro), Scarletforgotten (Moonshine rocks. Maybe Remy will introduce Rogue to it someday...), Chica De Los Ojos Café (And Remy does seem to have a rather stylish deathwish, doesn't he?), Inferno, angw, sakura5tar, Rogue Lockhart, Kylelara, enchantedlight, Reboot, and Shira's song (here's a little UPDATE SOON to you too!)

**Hunger Hurts, but Starving Works When it Costs Too Much to Love**

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9:30am. Study Hall. Scott sat at his desk, legs sprawled in front of him, pressing the base of his neck against the top of his leather chair. Eyelids drooping, his head began to sink down onto his chest. As his chin hit the hollow between his collarbones, his head bobbed up on its own accord, breaking Scott from his reverie. Blinking a few times, he looked toward the students in front of him who seemed to all be in a similar state. He turned his eyes to the long table in the corner of the room.

Kitty had dark circles under her eyes. She sat stoically, staring blankly at the notebook in front of her. Piotr sat next to her, doodling some intricate design on his literature homework as he always does, but Scott noticed that the boy dug his pencil into the paper in strained, almost angry strokes. His jaw was pushed forward and his forehead was wrinkled with stress. On the other side of Kitty sat Bobby, staring intently at his algebra book. His eyes were eager, tense with avid anticipation.

Scott rose stiffly from his comfortable position in the chair and walked over to the teenager, plucking the comic hiding behind the textbook from the boy and walked back to his desk. Bobby sighed deeply, dropping the textbook and leaning his elbows on the table, raking his fingers through his hair as his head bowed down.

_Those three look absolutely miserable, _Scott thought, wishing there was something he could do to ease their fears. _There isn't anything to ease, though. They probably have just cause for feeling like shit._ With that, he forced his emotions into the dark corner of his mind where he locked all of his pain. Settling back, he returned to his zombie-like state, glazed eyes staring out into nothingness.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott was in the exact same position. _Triangles. They're just underdeveloped squares, missing a limb. Disabled. Can't do half the stuff squares can. That's why they made the Pythagorean Theorem. It's like a handicap sticker or the Special Olympics medals. Probably considered freaks. Fuck. It would suck being a triangle..._

_Scott, would you join me down in Cerebro? Haste would be appreciated._

The Professor's voice echoed in Scott's mind, causing him to jump. With the back of his hand, he wiped some drool from the corner of his mouth and rose quickly. When the students looked up at him, he told them he would return shortly and to continue their work.

Rushing down to the sub-basement, he found the large doors to Cerebro already open. The Professor sat facing away from him, staring out into the large, metal dome, deep in thought. The headpiece lay in his lap with his hands crossed over it. Without turning around, the Professor sighed heavily and spoke, "Cerebro detected a signal from Rogue at 3:15 last night–"

"Oh, thank God!" Scott closed his eyes in relief.

"– for approximately two hours before disappearing again."

Scott furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Perhaps...she had managed to escape her kidnapper but was eventually caught again," he mused softly.

"Yes, that is a possibility. However –" the Professor hesitated for a moment, turning to face Scott, "– I fear there may be a another possible conclusion to be reached. You see...often times when a mutant with telepathic or other mind-controlled powers dies suddenly or forcefully, a large blast of psychic energy is released, often lasting for several hours before fading away. Much like how a super nova is formed when a star dies. Many of these eruptions are strong enough break through any shielding and could be targeted by Cerebro. As Rogue's powers– though admittedly a true enigma which we have yet to understand completely – are suspected of being mentally based, this may be relevant to her. I am...painfully regretful to say that this...very well may be the case."

Scott's jaw muscles flexed as he digested Xavier's words. When fighting for a cause, one risked one's life every day. Casualties were expected. The notion that this might be their last fight was a sacrifice they all were willing to take, and moving on past the anguish of losing a teammate was crucial for the survival of the team. Scott, more than anyone else, knew how difficult this was. But Rogue... Rogue was just a kid. It wasn't one of the active X-men constantly out on the battlefield who was forfeited. It was a student.

"This is only speculation, Scott; we have no proof yet of anything. We will continue to look for her and we will not stop until we have found her body– breathing or not."

Scott nodded sharply and turned to toward the doorway.

"Oh, and Scott?" the Professor added, causing the strong leader of the X-men to stop and look back with an almost frail expression on his face. "Perhaps we should not mention this new revelation to the other children. Not yet."

Nodding more gently this time, he turned away once more and exited.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Road. Road. Road. Road. Cigarette pack. Road. Road. Road. Smushed opossum. Road. Road. Tire. Road. Road. Road. Hand waving back and forth. _

"What?" Rogue grunted, still slumped in her seat and staring out through the windshield.

"Jus' makin' sure y'still breathin', _chere. _Y'haven't moved fo' while."

She rolled her head to the side to look at the Cajun. It was a bright day and she had to squint against the sun reflecting off of the moderate scattering of snow. In the background, a lively song registered in her ears. Perfect Girl by The Cure. Rogue smiled slightly, remembering her days of locking herself in her room, blasting gothic/new wave songs to drone out the pounding and yelling outside her door and Mr. Summer's constant threats to ground her. _He never really got it, did he?_

Remy misinterpreted the smile and grinned back at her. "So," he began, turning his gaze back to the road, "tell me 'bout y'self."

"Huh?"

"Y'know... how old y'are, where y'from, what y'like t'do, what's y'goal in life...why y'like t' oggle m' jewels..."

"W-w-what? Ah don't..Ah...oh." Rogue's face turned purple as she caught the double entendre. Punching him hard in the shoulder, she spat back, "Ha. Hah. Hah. If yer so smart, why dontcha figure me out yerself!"

"Ooo, never could resist a challenge. Lessee..." he looked her over carefully, causing Rogue to shift in discomfort. "Got it. You a teenage mot'er o' two disabled sheep dogs, livin' a lonely life in a run down New York apartment, tryin' desperately t'be cast in de musical Cats, dough y'don' know how t'sing or dance, but it be yo' dream ever since y'dropped outta beauty school after an unfortunate hair-dyin' accident. _Oui?" _

Hand slapped across her forehead, Rogue mumbled sarcastically, "Amazin'. Ya know me so well." Sighing, she dropped her hand and added, "Well, Ah suppose it's the best ya can do for a child of illegal immigrants from a small farm in the south of France who accidentally forgot about ya when they got all excited at seein' Disney World, so ya ended growin' up in the Louisiana swamps with a bunch of crocodiles after they adopted you as their surrogate son. Too bad ya had ta leave them behind after seein' the movie Men in Black and decided ta live the rest of ya life huntin' down hidden aliens. Ah'm sorry ta break it to ya, but that ruby ain't an egg."

Remy was looking down with a solemn expression on his face. "I know...M'therapist blames it on m' parent's abandonment."

"It's okay, we'll get ya through this."

Wiping his eyes with the pad of his thumb, he spoke with a quivering voice, "_mais, tu es un ange. Merci beaucoup!" _He paused for a few seconds. "Hey, Y'hungry? It's past twelve an' I's starved."

Rogue stayed quiet, staring down at her gloves. If Remy noticed her reluctance at his mention of food, he kept it to himself.

Taking the next exit ramp, Remy pulled into the first restaurant they encountered in the small gathering of eateries and gas stations. It happened to be a quaint little Mama's Home Cookin' kind of joint. After parking, he shot out of the car and slid nimbly over the hood just in time to open the passenger door for Rogue, bowing deeply. "_Mam'selle," _he sang grandly.

Rogue rolled her eyes and got out of the car, intentionally bopping the top of Remy's head with her hip.

"Oww!" Remy rose and rubbed his skull. "Dat's some hipbone y'got dere!"

Rogue heard him rushing to catch up with her. She increased her pace, then felt him speed up behind her, causing her to break into a quick trot. When Remy jogged pass her, she ran full out, grabbing the back of the trench coat whipping behind him to pull him back. They both yanked at each other, trying to gain the lead, as they approached the entrance to the diner. By the time they reached the door, they were both sprinting full out. Both of them grappled for the door handle, pushing at each other. With two pairs of hands layered upon the handle, they managed to open the door together and squeeze through the small entryway at the same time, limbs bumping up painfully against the metal border.

They were both panting by the time they approached the young waitress standing behind the counter. Her eyes were a bit too wide when she greeted them a bit too cheerfully. "Smoking or non?" she asked.

Rogue uttered a breathy "non" the same time Remy drawled out "smoking." They both glared at each other before turning back to the waitress and conceded the other's request in an annoyed voice.

"smoking." "non."

As they glared at each other again, the waitress cut in, "uhh...well, why don't I just put y'all in a booth right in the middle?" She grabbed two menus and swayed to the back of the room.

Rogue's eyes widened. She turned to Remy and whispered, "_y'all_? Where the heck are we?"

Remy tilted his head a little. "We's just crossed de border into Virginia."

"We're goin' _south?"_

"Y'object?"

Rogue shook her head loosely.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Good." He walked ahead to the booth the waitress was preparing. Behind him, Rogue made a mocking face and mouthed something unintelligible.

The menu was full of a variety of burgers and other greasy concoctions, complete with a 24 hour breakfast option. Rogue scanned through the selections, feeling increasingly ill. Taking a sip of water, she forced down the bile that had crept into the back of her throat. A different waitress approached and they placed their order of drinks. Remy asked for coffee and a small glass of milk while Rogue stuck with water.

When his drinks arrived, Remy took a long gulp of milk before holding it out to Rogue. "Need y'calcium, _chere_."

Rogue pointedly kept her eyes away from the glass held in front of her, trying not to gag, and instead studied the milk mustache that had accumulated on Remy's upper lip. Watching it glisten as his lips moved, the words coming out of his mouth went unheard. She suddenly really wanted some milk. When his lips finally stopped moving, she raised her eyes, trailing slowly up his face until she reached his, still hidden behind those damnable sunglasses. Those stupid, hindering, pointless sunglasses...

"_Chere? _Rogue?"

She quickly gave her head a little shake, clearing her mind. Remy was looking at her questioningly. He looked almost concerned. "Ah...ya have milk...right...here," she motioned to her mouth with a gloved finger.

Remy slowly slid his tongue over his top lip, sensually lapping up the liquid. After his tongue slipped back into his mouth, he continued to stare at her with a very serious expression on his face. Too serious.

Rogue rapidly made to stand, hitting her thighs against the table in the process, causing the silverware to clink loudly and her water to spill. "ahh..er...bathroom!" She bolted to the nearest door, which happened to be to the kitchen. She reared back and practically hopped to the door with the little women's symbol on it.

Remy chuckled to himself. Never had he encountered such an uptight _fille!_ Some women he crossed paths with had been nervous with him – mostly the virgins– but they usually fell right into his arms within a few hours. This one, however, seemed positively _frightened. _As he leaned back, sipping his coffee, he wondered how long it would take to break her will. _Did y'really wanna, t'ough, vieil ami? Dis fille be different from de rest. She not some beb in a club beggin' t'be pleasured. Dis be someone lost in de world, jus' like you. Dough, she does wan' it; dat be obvious. Y'can work an' play at de same time. An' what? Dat be what? Like ...dating?_

Remy shivered to himself and placed his coffee back on the table. _Tu es un fou faible, diable, can'cha just keep yo' dick in y'pants for two seconds?_ Perhaps he should just wait and see where this strange alliance takes them. Sliding his back into the corner, he raised one foot onto the cushioned bench, bending his knee to rest his elbow on it. "_Merde,"_ he spat softly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Idiot!" Rogue gripped her hands against the sink, leaning forward to press her forehead against the grungy mirror. With a steady pulse, she hit her head against the glass again and again. "Stupid...stupid...thinkin'... ya could... just...be..."

_Normal?_

_Human?_

_Not a soul-sucking leech so you can lip-suck the Cajun?_

"Shut up! Y'ain't helpin'!"

After Rogue had screamed at the top of her lungs, a stall door burst open and a small elderly woman crept out, her body tense and careful. Bypassing the sinks, she tiptoed to the door, and with one fearful look back at Rogue, dashed out of the bathroom.

Rogue closed her eyes and shook her head. This was getting ridiculous. Taking a deep breath, she splashed some cold water on her face and prepared herself to go back into the crowded diner.

After the blast of voices and dishes crashing washed through her, she noticed that Remy, still lounging his sexy little lounge in their booth, was having a close discussion with the waitress, a teenager with freckles, lip gloss, and a skirted uniform a few sizes too tight who was practically leaning on him with wide doe-eyes and a not-too-innocent smile. When Rogue was halfway across the floor, the waitress broke out into a girlish laugh while arching back and thrusting her chest out. Rogue's step faltered, but before she could turn around and retreat back into the sanctuary of the toilets, Remy caught sight of her and waved her back over with a huge, encompassing grin, forgetting the waitress in front of him completely. Rogue hesitantly slid back into the booth opposite him, looking up under her brow at the waitress who still looked a bit star-struck.

"Jus' in time, _chere,_ I's just about t'order wit'out ya."

Rogue made a noncommittal sound while taking a sip of water.

"Well, lessee _ma belle _Stacy– "

Rogue snorted into her glass at his smarmy drawl.

"I t'ink I gon have de country fried omlette wit' extra toast an' all de hot sauce y'can spare. An' de lady will have...?" he looked at Rogue expectantly.

"Um...Ah'll just stick with the water, thanks."

"_Chere_, y'gotta eat somethin'. Got a lot o' road ahead o' us; can' be stoppin' every five minutes fo' snacks."

"Ah'm really not hungry. Ma stomach get's queasy real easy in cars." She stared deep into the bottom of her water glass. The ice had almost melted completely. She liked ice in her water.

"Come now, _fille_, at least have a milkshake. Dey have de best chocolate milkshakes here. T'die for."

Rogue looked up in question. "Ya been here before?"

"_Non."_

Rogue frowned.

"Might be true. Wort'de gamble, _n'es pas?"_

Rogue didn't respond, so Remy nodded at the waitress. When the bubbly teenager departed, Remy turned a concerned eye back to Rogue. "Y'alright, _chere?_ Li'l skinny to be skippin' meals, _neh?" _

Rogue glared at him but remained silent. Remy raised his hands in a surrendering gesture after noticing her stubborn posture. They stayed in that position for the most part until the waitress returned with their meals. The milkshake placed in front of Rogue was a thick chocolaty mess, overflowing with whipped cream. A long straw and spoon were placed next to it. Remy's omelette was much in the same condition, hashbrowns and cheddar spilling onto the table from the full plate.

After a wink to the blushing waitress, Remy dug right in, scooping large clumps of egg and sausage bits into his mouth. _Certainly is southern, _Rogue commented to herself as she looked down at her shake. Tentatively, she picked up the straw and began playing with the whipped cream. Scooping it up into a little tower of Pisa, then patting it down into the glass and mixing it in with the chocolate ice cream.

"So, is it?"

Rogue's eyes snapped up. "Huh?"

"De milkshake. Is it de best in de world?"

"Oh, um..." Rogue took a small sip from the straw. The freezing, rich flavour of the shake hit her tongue and erupted against her taste buds. She swallowed compulsively and could feel the cold liquid slipping down her throat. The instant rush of sugar hit her system and caused her to shiver involuntarily. She realized this was her body's first source of caloric intake in over 24 hours. When she was finally able to refocus, she found Remy staring at her again. She forced a half shrug. "It's okay."

The half smile was back. "T'ought so."

Rogue had no reply, so she placed her lips back on the straw and continued drinking, her concentration fully on the glass in front of her.

The next time Rogue snapped her consciousness back into reality, she found Remy's plate pushed out in front of him, completely wiped clean. He, himself, was leaning back, his fingers interlaced and holding the back of his head. He was patiently watching her with hooded eyes. Rogue then noticed that somewhere along the way she had switched to the spoon to scrape up the last of the ice cream. Her gloves were discarded to the side, and her fingers were sticky with chocolate. Slightly embarrassed, she brought her fingers up to her mouth to lick away some of the sugary goop.

Something moved behind Remy's eyes, and he shifted a little in his seat. When Rogue went for the spoon one more time to capture the last bit of whipped cream, he reached over and slid the glass away from her. Clearing his throat, he said in a rough voice, "t'ink dat's enough milkshake f'now." He eased out of the booth and resettled his long coat around him. "'Bout time we got goin'." He grabbed the check from the edge of the counter and walked up to the cash register, bumping into a grumpy looking truck driver along the way. "Oh, 'scuse me, _homme, _din' see ya."

Rogue gathered her things and began walking toward the exit.

Halfway across the pavement and a few yards from the Honda, Remy slid up beside her. Linking his arm with hers, he ignored her faltering step and picked up the pace while keeping a light, easy bounce in his gait. As she crawled into the car and was about to close the door, she heard a muffled bellow from within the dinner.

"WHERE'S MY WALLET!"

Rogue tried to keep a straight face as they high-tailed it out of the parking lot.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_mais, tu es un ange. Merci beaucoup - _but (oh), you are an angel. Thank you.

_vieil ami -_ old friend

_Tu es un fou faible, diable - _you are a weak fool, devil


	7. Venomous Poison

NOTE: the chapter starts out with Ani Difranco's Untouchable Face, so if you are not familiar with the song, I suggest listening to it. It is really a great 'my lover sucks' song.

**Venomous Poison**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Think I'm going for a walk now  
I feel a little unsteady  
I don't want nobody to follow me  
'cept maybe you  
I could make you happy you know  
if you weren't already  
I could do a lot of things  
and I do

Tell you the truth I prefer  
The worst of you  
Too bad you had to have a better halfShe's not really my type  
but I think you two are forever  
And I hate to say it but  
You're perfect together

So fuck you  
And your untouchable face  
And fuck you  
For existing in the first place  
And who am I  
That I should be vying for your touch  
And who am I  
I bet you can't even tell me that much

_What's the matter, Marie? Is it finally hitting you? The complications of your curse? _

Two-thirty in the morning  
And my gas tank will be empty soon  
Neon sign on the horizon  
Rubbing elbows with the moon  
A safe haven of sleepless  
Where the deep fryer's always on  
Radio is counting down  
The top 20 country songs  
And out on the porch the fly strip is  
Waving like a flag in the wind  
Y'know, I don't look forward To seeing you again  
You'll look like a photograph of yourself  
Taken from far, far away  
And I won't know what to do  
And I won't know what to say

Except fuck you, and your untouchable face...

_You wanna kiss 'im, doncha? You want 'im to take you and FUCK you hard, right girl?_

And fuck you, for existing in the first place

_Ya want ta fall inta his arms. Ya want ta feel his skin, and when ya finally suck him dry, ya won't care. It'd be worth it– ta get what ya want fo' once._

And who am I, that I should be vying for your touch

_Maybe you should. Then you'll be arrested for murdering a human and you'll finally get the punishment you deserve!_

And who am I, I bet you can't even tell me that much

_What makes you think he'll even want to touch you? Look at him, he's gorgeous! He could have any girl he wants. Why settle for you?_

'_Cause he's a guy. He'll take anythin' he can get his hands on...Just like you._

I see you and I'm so perplexed

What was I thinking?

What will I think of next

Where can I hide?

_So when ya gonna tell him about yo' bein' a mutant? He'll find out eventually._

_Wonder if he'll call the police or decide to take things into his own hands. He looks pretty strong. Bet he can swing a bat into a skull with ease. _

_Maybe he'll try to rape her. Fuck, that'd be hot._

_Yer disgustin', firefly. Would be amusin' to see 'im electrocute 'imself in the process, though. _

Fuck you and your untouchable face –

Rogue clenched her fists so hard, she began to tremble, biting her lip to keep from screaming at the voices to shut up. They were right, ultimately, weren't they?

"_Chere? _Y'okay? Y'startin' t' shake on me. Y'ain't epileptic, are ya?"

Rogue threw an ugly glare at him. She immediately felt guilty for it and shrugged dejectedly. "Ah don't like this song much."

Remy silently reached over to turn the station. The deafening scream of an electric guitar hit Rogue's eardrums like a hammer.

Your mouth, so hot  
Your web, I'm caught  
Your skin, so wet  
Black lace on sweat  
I hear you calling and it's needles  
And pins (and pins)  
I want to hurt you just to hear you  
Screaming my nameDon't want to touch you but  
You're under my skin (deep in)  
I want to kiss you  
But your lips are venomous poison

Rogue made a sound of exasperation and fell forward, her forehead clunking against the glove compartment. Staying in the position, she ignored the Cajun's questioning remarks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You are sure you haven't seen this girl?"

Burt glanced at the photograph one more time before apathetically shaking his head. "Don't get a lot of locals here. Mostly just drunk truck drivers." He turned away from the strange man in front of him. "And unless you want a room for the night, you might as well get out of here and head back to your Star Trek convention or wherever you came from." With that, he tottered his heavy body into the back room, returning to the mirror lying on the grimy coffee table where he had been so rudely interrupted from his afternoon fix.

Scott folded the photo and slipped it back into the pocket of his uniform. Taking a deep breath of stale air, he stepped back outside to the waiting X-Men.

Storm closed her eyes after reading the expression on his face while Wolverine flared his nostrils.

Scott worked his jaw for a moment. "He's hiding something."

Wolverine growled. "You should have let me handle it, bub. I know a few ways to loosen a tongue." With a menacing SNNKKT, he accented his statement with a show of his claws.

"Now, that is hardly necessary, Logan," the serene yet stern voice of Storm cut in. She was about to say more, but the cell phone clipped to her belt vibrated with a low buzz. She closed her mouth and turned her back to the two men to answer it.

Scott began to face Wolverine again, intent on lecturing the importance of peaceful interrogation, but found the other man's face already inches from his own.

"Just remember, _Cyclops,_ I blame you fer this. If you'd been keepin' an eye on the kids like you were supposed to, none of this would've happened. If Marie gets so much as a _scratch_, I'll make sure you get the same. _Tenfold. _And I won't be picky about locations." Wolverine moved his fist downward between him and sheathed his claws sharply. Scott could not help but jump.

Wolverine was still glaring daggers at Scott when Storm returned, looking upset. "Henry McCoy just sent the police files he was able to hack from the station. The information is not complete, but what we were able to discern is... not optimistic..."

"Spit it out, 'Ro," Wolverine growled.

Storm shook her head. "I'm still waiting on the details."

"I'm sick of this." Wolverine spun around swiftly to the motel before them. "Time to take matters into our own hands." We walked toward the building, not waiting on the other teammates. Halfway down the parking lot, he skidded to a halt. He sniffed the air for moment, then motioned to the others in a quick 'get your ass over here' signal. He began prowling again, leaving Scott and Storm struggling to keep up with him. When he reached the door to the last room on the corner, he didn't even try the handle, opting to simply slash down the door with a few rapid swipes of adamantium. Before the remaining shards of wood could fall to the ground, Wolverine was already through the doorway and scanning the room. "She's been here, " he growled quietly when Scott stumbled through the doorframe.

"Anyone else?" Again, all business.

"Uh huh. Man. Smokes too much. Likes bourbon. Hmm, Woodford Reserve; good quality shit." His nostrils flared suddenly, his face taking on some alarmingly animalistic qualities. "Too much testosterone."

"What do you mean?"

"This place stinks of lust."

"Well, what –" Scott swallowed his words as three sharp blades entered his vision, about two inches from his face.

"Best not talk to me right now, bub."

Scott swallowed but forced any sign of fear from his face. He was team leader after all. He was supposed to be in control. But...looking at the feral gleam in Logan's eyes persuaded him to save the lecture for another time.

Storm entered the room, cell phone still plastered to her ear. She took one look at the men in front of her and rolled her eyes before concentrating on the voice on the other end.

Wolverine kept his position in front of Scott a second longer before retracting his claws back into his fist and turning his back on the man. He continued to search the area. He walked into the bathroom, noting the lack of a door in dark humour before the implications of it set in, in which time he cursed at the naked space. The sink still had small beads of water stuck to the sides of the basin, indicating they had not left more than a few hours ago. Maybe half a day ahead of them at the most. Back into the bedroom, he caught Rogue's scent on the bed in the farthest corner. She had stayed above the sheets. Logan did not know if that was a good thing or not. The back of his mind registered the all-too-familiar fragrance of teenage hormones, but the idea was too preposterous for him to even acknowledge it.

It was Scott who noticed something peculiar. On top of the wobbly dresser was a used roll of Christmas wrapping paper. Picking it up to study it, he deduced that it was cut with something sharp but not as neat as a pair of scissors. A large knife maybe. Wolverine walked up to him and eyed the roll with an arched eyebrow. Scott shook his head. "She was Christmas shopping. She probably bought it to wrap her gifts."

"What the hell is _he_ gonna do with Christmas wrap?"

Storm cut in abruptly, her tone subdued–more so than usual. "Um...guys? We just got word of a message received by the station via radio from an officer in the front cavalry unit. He reported seeing the...hostage...being tortured."

Both men looked at each other, then back to the wrapping paper.

Wolverine found his voice first. "What sort of sick bastard is this guy?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're disgustin'!" Rogue covered her eyes with her hands.

"Whuaagh?" Remy garbled behind a mouthfull of mashed potatoes.

"Auugh. Ya mind swallowin' before openin' ya mouth?" Rogue gestured to the plate in front of him, which was filled to the brim with a big slab of steak and a heap of potatoes which was currently having a pound of ketchup stirred into it. She shook her head. "That ain't natural."

"_Chere,"_ Remy replied, shifting the food in his mouth to one side, "_dat_ ain't natural." He pointed to the half eaten salad in front of her.

Rogue chose not to respond to that. The waitress – blushing under Remy's gaze - soon took their plates away, and they reluctantly exited the restaurant to cramp themselves back into the car.

A few hours and a multitude of Kid Rock, Trisha Yearwood, and Nine Inch Nails later, Rogue snapped awake from her light nap, noting that they were pulling into another parking lot. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked out of the window to see a large, brown one-story building with the words "Johnson City Postal Office" etched over the doors.

"We're in Tennessee already? Golly, just how fast were ya goin'?"

Remy just smirked at her as he opened the car door and slipped out. Reaching into the back seat, he pulled out the jewelry box wrapped in gay little elf slippers and said stoutly, "stay here. Be right back." And then he was gone.

Rogue shook her head, letting the ends of her hair beat against her face. With a sigh, she climbed out of the car and stretched a bit, relishing in the lack of snow. She noticed a few people watching her. A young couple pushing a baby carriage down the sidewalk. An old man leaning on his cane as he paused from unlocking his car. A grizzly looking man with a cowboy hat shading his face, sucking on a cigarette held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. They all had the same expression shining in their eyes. Mistrust.

Rogue scrunched her eyebrows together. They couldn't possibly know that she was a mutant just by looking at her. Then a pair of teenage girls strutted past, licking on ice-cream cones. Short denim cut -offs and pastel-coloured midriffs. Pigtails. It suddenly occurred to her when she looked down at her own dark, layered clothing. It wasn't her mutation that separated her from the rest of the crowd, but something as simple as her type of dress. It amazed her, after struggling and fighting so long for mutant acceptance back home, that prejudice was not only restricted to genes. That for some people, all it takes is a diverse lifestyle to mark one as different. As wrong.

The man with the hat flicked his cigarette away and began to stroll towards her. His shoulders were arched back and he had a hard set to his face. However, he stopped as soon as Remy appeared beside her. Draping his arm protectively around her shoulders, he asked, "y'ready, _ma cherie?_" while still staring straight at the man.

Rogue nodded, sliding her arm around his waist with only the slightest bit of hesitation. He opened the door for her and closed it gently after she sat down. He nodded once to the man, somewhat sardonically, and got into the drivers seat.

Without a word, they backed out of the parking lot and sped onto the freeway, continuing their adventurous journey, although, neither of them felt quite in the mood to revel in their freedom anymore.


	8. What You Waitin' For?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the X men, nor Jeopardy, nor any songs used.

**Warning: **The songs used for this song are not my own and DO NOT reflect my actual taste of music. Thank you.

**Also,** This chapter begins to get a little intense in the second half. There is a bit of sexuality, so if you are sensitive to that kind of thing...well, maybe you should think twice about reading this fic. It ended up a comedy (completely by accident, actually) but there will be adult situations. The tone is a bit more serious, though my intention is to lighten it up again soon.

The little blurb from Jeopardy was not of my creation. It actually happened! Go here to watch it; it's hilarious. (.) Btw, I do not own Alex Trebec, but it would be really cool if I did.

Hope you enjoy!

**Take a Chance, You Stupid Hoe**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What's that? Don't that red blip thing mean a sightin'?" The thick, hairy finger of Wolverine was punctuated underneath Xavier's nose, pointing at the small, flat screen built into the control centre of Cerebro.

"Logan, that is simply a little spike of energy, probably created by rapid heat fluctuations in the atmosphere. Cerebro is very sensitive and often picks up insignificant details. For that to be Rogue, she would have to have been just far enough from her captor for literally under a minute. I find that highly unlikely."

"It's possible though, right, Chuck?"

"Well, yes, many things are possible; just not probable. In addition, this was spotted all the way in Tennessee. They could not possibly have gone that far by automobile."

"I don't like this," Wolverine growled.

"Of course not, Logan. None of us do. We will find her, though, somehow, and of the greatest haste possible." _Though we may already be too late as it is, _he added silently.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rogue plopped herself in the middle of the bed, trying her best to ignore the hideous colour pattern. _Can't we ever stay in some NICE hotels? _She folded her legs under her and reached for one of her bags, immediately beginning to riffle through it. Pulling out some magazines and action figures and packets of bubblegum, she carelessly threw them over her shoulder and continued searching.

When a packet of grape-flavoured BubbleYum hit him square in the back, Remy turned around from hanging up his coat to glare at Rogue, only to find her face practically hidden inside the huge paper bag. "Missin' somet'in'?" he asked casually.

It startled her, and she quickly extracted her head from the bag and looked up at him. "Huh?" she answered intelligently.

"Or are y'just burrowin' a hole t'sleep in tonight? I can guarantee, _chere_, dat de generally accepted method of sleepin' fo' humans is rat'er comfy. Get pillows an' everyt'in'."

Rogue scowled at him, settling the bag into her lap. "Ah'm lookin' for a toothbrush, smarty. Ah haven't brushed mah teeth in forever and Ah'm dyin' for some body scrub."

"Y'don' need no body scrub while I'm here, _beb._ I's can scrub yo' body as much as y'wan'."

"Ughh, that's the lamest innuendo Ah've ever heard! Doncha got anythin' better than that?"

Remy seemed to materialize in front of her in one fast flicker of motion. His face was suddenly way too close...again. "I got anyt'in' y'wan', _ma femme._ Jus' name it." His voice was low, guttural.

Rogue fought the urge, yet again, to back away from him. She forced herself not to break eye contact. "Ah want ya to back away a few steps. Ya ain't brushed ya teeth either."

That got him to reel away from her in surprise. He recovered quickly, however, and, much to Rogue's annoyance, flung his body onto her bed, causing her stomach to roll as the mattress bounced violently a few times. "What else's in dere?" He lay on his side, leaning on his elbow and resting his head upon his fist.

Rogue stopped for a moment. "Ya know? Good question." She turned the bag upside-down and its contents spilled out across the bedspread between them.

Picking up a magazine that had flopped in front of him, Remy raised his eyebrows at her. "Esquire, _chere?_ Didn't t'ink y'were de type."

"Aw, shuddap. That ain't for me. These were supposed ta be gifts for the people Ah live with."

"A lotta crap f'one household."

"Well, there's a lot of people."

Remy continued picking at some of the paraphernalia. "Hmm...Chia Pet?"

"Yeah, that's for Stor..er..Ms. Monroe. She's one of mah teachers. She's really into gardenin' and stuff." Rogue shrugged self-consciously. "Ah'm not really good at this."

"Ehh, I's sure y'fine. Lessee...here, we got some... metal varnish?"

Rogue quickly snatched the bottle away. "Yeah...Pete has a lot of...um…metal...that he likes to...clean..." She tossed it behind her. She picked up an apron and attempted to unfold it. By the time she managed to de-tangle the cloth, she was forced to stretch both her arms out to the side just to show Remy what was on the front of it. "Ain't it cute?" Her voice was muffled as her head was enveloped in the expanse of the material. The apron itself was a dark shade of blue with the figure of a voluptuous woman with a skimpy French maid's outfit, cut off at the neck and knees. The words "ooh, la la" were printed on her skirt.

Remy yanked the apron away from Rogue and checked the size tag. "_Dieu, _dat's a lotta x's."

Rogue laughed. "Yeah, Mr. McCoy is kinda big. He just moved in a couple weeks ago, and everyone's all really relieved that there's finally someone who knows how ta cook. Ya can really only have pizza so many times a week." She shook her head. "Got 'im these too. Since he's the new medic and all." She tossed him a huge pack of Band-Aids with various superhero themes on them.

"Oo, _tres bon_.. Dese may actually come in handy." Remy stuffed them inside his coat, ignoring Rogue's pout. He next picked up a DVD case. "_Cirque du Soleil_, huh? So, y'like yo' men flexible?"

Rogue blushed before throwing some hackey sack bags at him. "That's for Mr. Wagner, jackass. He was in the Munich Circus or somethin' like that. Thought he may like ta see his competition!"

"_Mais, _I don' got nuthin' against _femmes_ who can twist into pretzels. S'kinda hot." He looked at her curiously. "Can _you_ do de splits?"

Rogue glared at him. "And if Ah can, why would Ah be so inclined to admit it to a low-life, thievin'...insufferably _male_ swamp rat?"

Remy recoiled back onto the bed, clutching his heart. "Straight t'de heart!" He writhed around, messing up the bed sheets until he was assaulted by another shopping bag, which exploded on contact with his head. Removing a stuffed wolf, which had somehow found itself lodged into his air passageways, the Cajun frowned deeply at Rogue. "Dat not nice."

"Yeah, well, neither is going for two days straight without a toothbrush and a change of clothes."

"Well...here!" Remy picked up a Gap box, which had been resting, somewhat uncomfortably, in his lap. He opened it and pulled out a bright fuchsia knitted sweater. He paused for a moment, staring at the garment, but soon returned to his normal, energetic manner. "See...dis be a...perfectly usable piece o' clothing."

Rogue stared at him, deadpan. "It's pink."

He looked down at it again. "Weeeelll," he tilted his head to the side. "...yeah." He sighed and dropped the sweater. "Can y'hold out 'til mornin'? We'll go get supplies den."

Rogue nodded, still eyeing the sweater as if it were some wild animal in a poorly constructed cage, thinking that if she ever returned to the Institute, she was going to wring Kitty's neck with it. She looked to Remy again, finding him drooling over a calendar with glossy pinups of motorcycles. "Don't crinkle the pages, or ya may find yaself with a few more holes than before."

"Do y'ride, _chere?_"

"A...bit. Logan taught me." _Or tried to._ When most of the staff tried comfort talks and badly hidden therapy techniques, Logan took her out to the garage. She smiled at the memory.

"Y'gettin' all dreamy on me, _chere. _Dat yo' boyfriend?"

She looked back up at him, with a sour look on her face. "No, just another...friend."

"Sure get around, doncha?" He was immediately pelted again with the closest thing Rogue could grab– which happened to be a hard cover book. "Son of a bitch!" Remy rubbed his forehead as he picked up the weapon of assault to read the cover. "Mind chess? Y'certaintly have an eclectic group o'people y'hang out wit."

"You have no idea…"

They ciphered through the rest of the pile, not finding anything of immediate interest or importance. Soon after, Remy announced that he had to go run a few more errands, and left Rogue to clean up the mess. "Backwater Jackoff!" were her parting words to him.

Rogue stuffed everything back into the shopping bags and threw them haphazardly in a corner, then sat on the edge of the bed, at a loss of what she should do next. Looking around, she noticed a phone on the nightstand and wondered if she should call the Institute. They were probably really miffed at her right now. She actually was half-surprised that Logan wasn't knocking down the motel door and swooping her up over his shoulders to take her back home already.

What she needed was a book to read. In her room back at the Institute, she would spend half the day reading some novel or another. She still had three books left to get through in the Anita Blake series, and she suddenly remembered that new Sue Grafton book just came out. _Damn._ Her _Diary of a Madman_ was still probably lying open face down on her dresser. Rogue shook her head and reached her hand back into a shopping bag, grabbing the thick _Mind Chess _book she had gotten for the Professor. She opened the cover to begin to read, but after glancing at the first page, littered with a maze of complicated formulas, quickly shut it again and threw it back into the pile. _Fuck._

Sighing heavily, she repositioned herself on her bed so that she was lying on her stomach, feet stuffed underneath the pillows. She reached over and picked up the remote control, aiming it at the TV, which perched on top of a vanity on the other end of the room. She pressed her thumb to the power button.

Nothing happened.

Pressing it harder, Rogue let out a sound of aggravation. Finally, she flipped the remote over in her hand, closed one eye, and threw it at the television. It smacked loudly against the bottom panel before falling to the floor.

_BZZZZZZT_

The room was immediately assaulted with a high-pitched tune, sounding like a cross between a video game and a theme song from one of those super hero TV shows from the sixties.

"_When there's trouble, you know who to caaaall...TEEN TITANS!"_

"Ughh," Rogue groaned, grabbing a packet of gum from a shopping bag and prepared to throw it.

"_From the tower, they can see it aaall...TEEN–" _

_Click._

"Tool Time for 200, Alex."

"This term for a long-handled gardening tool can also mean an immoral pleasure seeker. Ken."

"What is a hoe."

"No." Alex Trebec's voice was drowned out by audience laughter. "Wooah...they teach you that in school in Utah, huh? Al... "

Rogue snorted.

_Click._

"– Tonight at eleven: how to keep those Holiday leftovers from ruining _your _New Year's diet, but first, an update on the mysterious car chase that took place in New York. Yesterday, at a mall in the heart of Manhattan, someone had broken into a yellow Hummer and was chased by the police for over an hour before disappearing."

Above the anchor's shoulder, they showed clips of the chase taken by a helicopter. Rogue began to feel ill as she watched the big lug of a car dance seamlessly between cars, skidding left and right dangerously.

"The car was left abandoned a few hours from the state border. What was previously believed to be a hostage, the second person in a car is now suspected of being related to a Jewel Heist which had taken place just before the chase began, in the same mall. The _Le Rubis De Sang Royal,_ a precious European ruby which was to be auctioned on Christmas Eve, was said to have been stolen by a young woman in dark clothing and a floppy hat which covered her facial features. Conflicting reports argue whether her hair was blonde or dark. If you have any information about–"

_Click. _

The television blinked off. Just in time, too, for Rogue had run out of objects to throw.

Rogue swallowed the thick lump of indignation that had lodged itself in her throat, furious that along with everything that had happened, she wouldn't even get sympathy from the public. Not that she _wanted _pity, she reminded herself. Sighing, she decided that she had nothing better to do, so she peeled herself off of her bed to go take a long, hot, _well-deserved _shower. She padded over to the bathroom - complete with a door - longing for her peaches n' cream body wash.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Remy hated the Russian Mafia. Without a doubt, it was the most violent and _stubborn_ of human associations in the world, outside of the US government... though unlike the latter, there was nothing ignorant and impulsive about the Ruskies. What made them so dangerous was not their exceedingly impressive arsenal of modern weaponry, but their intelligence. Remy, along with anyone who enjoyed their health, revered them. What pissed him off, though, was how they had successfully leaked into every corner of every market. Not an operation went by without tripping over Mafia territory, which was inconvenient, at the very, _very_ least, for an independent thief.

As it was, Remy ended up taking two hours just finding a supplier in the area that would not raise any unwanted attention. The last thing he needed right now was a big, flashing red arrow floating above his head. That would be particularly dangerous, since there was only one man who was powerful enough to outmatch the Russian Mafia; to manipulate them to his own desires. That man had a particular want for Remy's head.

After picking up the necessary documents and tools, he bee-lined back to the motel, intending to stay out of the spotlight for the rest of the night. Who knew such a small town in Tennessee, of all places, would have such an active night life?

Remy parked the car in a secluded corner of the parking lot, where a thick patch of bushes covered the view of the license plate from most angles. He quietly made his way to the hotel room.

It was dark when he entered, the only source of light coming from the tiny reading lamp above Rogue's bed and the bright line on the carpet beneath the closed bathroom door. Running water could be heard in the background. Remy settled himself on his bed – again the one closest to the exit – lying on his back with his hands cupped behind his head. After slipping off his glasses and placing them on the table beside him, he closed his eyes. He remained that way until he heard a door creak open. Opening his eyes, he was momentarily frozen by what stood in front of him..

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That felt good. That felt really, really good.

Rogue stood under the steaming flow of water for what seemed like hours. She had already completely used up the little complementary bottle of shampoo and was just finishing off the liquid body soap. Bending over with one foot propped on the edge of the tub, she rubbed her hands up and down her leg, lathering it with bubbly soap. This was really the only time she let herself relish in the feeling of skin on skin...even if the effect was somewhat muted, being it her own. She loved the silkiness of it; the warmth. She scrapped her nails gently up her thigh, watching streaks of red lines slowly appear. Traveling up her stomach, she fingered the sharp outline of her ribs, slowly working her way upward.

Her mind began to wander. A vivid memory began flashing before her eyes, so real, she could smell the heavy smoke in the air.

_She remembered the foreign bedroom, the thick aroma of weed surrounding her. Filled to the gills already with the shit, it hardly bothered her anymore. The half-empty bottle of Bud – how many was that again? – discarded long ago, she used her free hands to caress the thin belly beneath her. She normally liked more voluptuous women – ones you could actually grab and squeeze – but the chick was pretty enough and more than made up for it in her rack. Quickly moving her hands up the long torso, over the jutting ribs, to the thick mounds of flesh which were barely concealed in a pink mesh bra. She removed it in seconds– the one thing she could brag about to the other guys in the locker room at school that was actually true – and lowered her mouth to one breast, sucking and nipping at the dark nipple while roughly squeezing the other with her hand. _

_The girl – how old was she anyhow? – bucked beneath her, moaning in pleasure. Rogue couldn't wait any longer. She grabbed the crotch of the girl's panties and ripped it apart. Just as swiftly, she unbuttoned the front of her jeans and pounced on the girl, who gave no resistance whatsoever. _

_God, she was so high. And drunk. And fucking horny. That bitch Amanda never gave her a second look, and there was nothing she wanted more than that ass in her hands. Just thinking bout that stupid cunt made Rogue even more excited, and she quickly picked up the pace. _

_The girl was making a lot of noise beneath her...kind of like a cross between a squealing monkey and an angry oxen. Fuck, that was hot. _

_Really hot._

_Sweat poured down her face. The skin of her abdomen burned as it rubbed against the girl's pelvis. Her mouth, as it dominated over plump lips and unfortunate braces, felt like it going to start smoking any minute. That made her even more aroused. She began to bite at the soft tissue. _

_The girl began to scream and writhe underneath her in what Rogue assumed to be the best orgasm of her young life. Scalding flames burst between their lips – it took a moment for Rogue to realize that that was literal. By the time she had leaped off the bed in alarm, the girl on the bed was completely enveloped in a heavy blaze. _

_Panicking, Rogue looked around helplessly. Not knowing what else to do, she impulsively ran over to the curtains draped over the window and set them aflame. Then the carpet. Jumping through the fire which had completely taken over the room in seconds, she jumped through the window, twisting her ankle in the process, and ran, in a sort of limpy canter all the way home. _

_She did not look back. _

Rogue screamed, collapsing onto her knees. Under the heavy stream of water, she crawled into an upright fetal position, crying into her folded arms. "Just stop it! Just stop! Please!" She began punching her fist onto her knees. She was weeping outright now, unable to keep the painful sobs from escaping her throat.

The voices were echoing inside her head, too vague to be understood, but sharp and pounding nonetheless.

Rogue continued to cry, tears rolling down her face, mingling with the hot water, which still beat against her. She was breathing unevenly, hyperventilating and choking on the violent sobs that kept racking her body. Manically, she looked around for something sharp. Something to make it all stop. Seeing nothing, she yelled out in frustration. Forcing herself to her feet, she climbed out of the tub, back hunched and legs bent, as if it were difficult to even stand. She spun around in a circle, searching for _something_. Anything. Finally, her gaze locked on the towel rack. Hardly satisfactory, but it would do the trick. Throwing the towels onto the ground, she grabbed onto the bar and pulled.

It didn't budge.

She pulled harder, desperately. There was a short screech of metal, then the bar was yanked from the wall. Pulled by the unexpected burst of momentum, Rogue fell backward, hitting her back hard on the side of the tub. Too hysterical to even respond to the blow, she immediately brought the sharp edge of the bar to the inside of her forearm. The skin was already covered with pink streaks of newly healed scars, but Rogue dragged the metal over them without a second thought. Not deep enough. She tried again, harder. The skin was raped with harsh scrapes, the skin torn in a skidded pattern, but that was not what Rogue sought. One more time, the edge finally caught and punctured the area just above her wrist. She watched as the blood belatedly began to fill the hole, beading up into a scarlet sphere. It wasn't a lot, but it calmed Rogue immediately as her unbridled emotional pain bled out into a sharp, physical sting. Resting against the tub, Rogue closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

She didn't move from that spot until half an hour later, after calming herself down. The voices retreated, as they always did, leaving her head clear to relax. Finally, she lifted herself from the floor. Dropping the towel rack, she slowly entered under the steamy shower once more, letting the water wash over the goosebumps that had encased her body.

The only thing better about hotel bathrooms than the free shit, was the never-ending supply of hot water.

Rogue continued to soak under the stream, willing her mind to remain blank.

Much, much later, she forced herself out of the shower, grabbing one of the towels from the floor. Avoiding the mirror, which was fogged beyond any sort of transparency, she attempted to comb her fingers through her hair, but the lack of conditioner made it impossible. Sighing, she dropped her hands. Then she remembered. Knocking the heel of her hand on the side of her head, she walked towards the door.

She had bought one of those special, really expensive hairbrushes that claimed to rebuild your hair's natural shine -or something silly like that – for shy little Lorna. The thirteen-year-old had the most beautiful head of flowing green hair, though the poor kid hated it with a passion.

Pushing the door open, she walked into the dark room. Eyes still adjusting to the lack of light, she padded over to her bed, towel wrapped tightly around her.

About to bend over to pick up a bag, something flashed out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head to the other side of the room,which was completely blanketed in darkness, she found two glowing, red orbs dancing in the air, staring back at her.

Yelping in surprise, she grabbed the bag and impulsively threw it at them, while backing up into a position that came as close to a fighting stance as one could manage with one hand grasping the ends of a towel.

A grunt was heard, followed shortly by the crash of gifts spilling all over. Movement, then the click as the lamp on the bedside table was turned on. Blinded for a moment, Rogue squinted with her hand splayed over her eyes. Peeking through, she saw Remy sitting on the bed, looking less than amused. With his sunglasses still covering his eyes, he looked rather... intense.

"Err...Sorry. Ah thought I saw...well...somethin'. Sorry. Heh," Rogue stuttered, feeling terribly embarrassed. "...Ah'm gettin' kinda good at throwin' stuff at ya, huh?" She ran her fingers through her hair in a nervous manner, but they soon got caught in a mass of thick tangles.

Remy just continued to stare at her, completely expressionless.

Shrinking under his eyes, she shuffled over to his bed, head down, and reached for the hairbrush, which was laying a few feet away from him. She reached out with her free hand to snatch it up, but strong fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrist, quick as a viper. Rogue automatically tried to jerk away, but the hand remained plastered to her skin. By the time her mind caught up to the moment, she realized that Remy was still wearing his gloves. _Fuuuck._ She exhaled deeply, relaxing her shoulders, before she realized exactly why he had grabbed her.

Remy was staring down at her arm, his mouth set tightly into a careful frown. He turned her wrist so the pale skin of her underarm shone in the light, highlighting the recent scratch with the tiny smear of blood. He raised his head slowly, looking up at her. There was something in his face that Rogue could not identify.

Rogue jerked away again, and this time he released her arm. "Ya shouldn't go grabbin' people like that. It ain't polite," she yelled sharply, holding her arm close to her chest. She looked and sounded more angry than she actually was. Inside, she was quivering.

He was still looking at her._ Damn those insufferable glasses! _When he spoke, it was quiet, almost a whisper, laced with puzzlement and genuine concern. "Why y'doin' dis t'yoself, _chere?"_

The gentle tone reverberated within Rogue, sending shivers down to her knees, making them almost too weak to stand on. Belatedly, she hardened her expression, snapping back, "ain't none of ya business!" She turned to march back into the bathroom.

Remy rose from the bed, following behind her. "I t'ink it is, _chere." _

Rogue swung back to him, trying her very best to shoot the nosy Cajun in the chest with the daggers flying from her glare. It didn't work, so she opened her mouth instead. "An' who are you, now! Mah mother? Let me tell ya somethin', _Frenchie. _Ah don't go pokin' mah nose inta your life, and there are definitely curious aspects of ya background that ya keep locked up tight in ya closet –" Remy bristled a little at that, but Rogue continued, "and guess what? Ah have mine, too! So, unless ya wanna spill all _your_ little secrets, leave mine alone, _comprenez-vous?_"

Remy walked up to her, causing Rogue to back away just to keep from touching him. She ended with her back against the wall, the formidable presence of the strong man before her pressing into her personal space like the strong electrical storms that always frightened her as a child.

His voice came from deep within his throat. "Oh, I understand, alright. I understand real good, _fillette," _he spat, "Y'hidin' some deep, dark pain dat only _you_ feel, dat de rest o' de world could not _possibly_ understand, _oui? _An' 'cause no one can help ya, y'keep it locked up inside, dealin' wit' it de only way t't'ink y'can – by destroyin' y'self from de outside in." He leaned closer to her, softening his tone. "I know y't'ink dat's true, Rogue, but listen t'me an' listen good: Y'ain't alone. Y'may have a unique situation, but everyone knows pain. Take it from _moi; _I know what it feel like t'be alone in a tough, unforgivin' world with somet'in t'hide." He softly caressed the battered skin above her wrist, sliding his gloved hand up her arm to gently squeeze her bare shoulder.

Rogue was frozen in place, muscles taut. An unwilling tear dripped down her cheek, curving to travel down her jaw.

Remy moved his other hand to cup her face, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "I'm gon' help ya, _ma belle, _I'm gon' be dere f'ya." He tightened his hands around her as she let loose a heavy sob. "Shh. Shhh, m'girl. It gon be alright." He leaned his face closer, his lips a mere few inches above hers. He whispered into them, "Trust me..."

And before Rogue had time to realize what was happening, he lowered his lips and kissed her.


	9. Crimson Ride

**Crimson Ride**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_He tightened his hands around her as she let loose a heavy sob. "Shh. Shhh, m'girl. It gon be alright." He leaned his face closer, his lips a mere few inches above hers. He whispered into them, "Trust me..." And before Rogue had time to realize what was happening, he lowered his lips and kissed her._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A jolt of electricity spread across her lips as they connected with warm flesh. The feeling rushed across her skin, traveling down her body, soaking into her bones and scalding her blood. Her head felt light and her knees heavy.

It felt... wonderful.

Her eyes closed and her neck arched. She was completely powerless under the Cajun's embrace.

Well...perhaps not completely _powerless._

Within a few seconds – a few lifetimes through Rogue's perspective– another exorbitant pull began to flow between their bodies. A sensation Rogue knew all too intimately. What began as a slight static-y magnetization quickly grew into a painful fusion. Like sticking your finger in a light socket...not that Rogue had ever done that before, but she imagined it would be a similar experience. Immeasurable energy soaked into her very being, filling her to the brink.

By this time Rogue was able to push Remy off of her. He gave no resistance – falling straight onto the floor after breaking contact with her. Eyes shut, unmoving...he was out cold.

"Oh shit," Rogue cried after the few seconds it took to clear her head from the head rush. "Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!' Panicked, she circled around him a few times, bending down to check his breathing. "Oh fuck...oh...oh shit..." Turning around herself helplessly, she whimpered.

She needed to get out of there. She had to leave before he woke up and found out what she had done...what she was.

Too frantic to even pay attention to the new memories and emotions rolling around in her mind, she ran over to the bed and grabbed the closest bag – not really knowing why she needed the stupid bag in the first place, but she was too hysterical to think straight – and prepared to run out of the room, completely forgetting that she was wearing only a towel.

Halfway to the door, she felt a sizzle against her hand. Looking down, she found that the bag she was holding was glowing a bright magenta. Horrified, she threw the bag away from her, just as a painful burning sensation began to craw up her arm.

The bag sailed through the air, hitting the wall next to the windows. Upon contact, the entire thing exploded.

Rogue screamed at the top of her lungs, turning and crouching to protect herself from the flying debris. The binding of Xavier's book – what was left of it – hit her between the shoulder blades, knocking her face first onto the floor, less than a foot away from Remy's still body.

After everything settled, Rouge remained splayed on the floor, frozen in a rather uncomfortable position with her chin digging into the matted carpet. After a few calming seconds, she slowly rose onto her hands and knees, turning her head to look behind her. Her eyes were widened to the size of oranges.

The spot on the wall where the bag had hit was scorched and dented. Charred pieces of paper, shattered glass, splintered wood, broken bottles and stuffing covered the room. There was a slight burning smell in the air.

Rogue then looked down at the unconscious man beside her. She shook her head, slightly dazed. "Ya little punk."

She rose to her feet, readjusting the towel, which had all but fallen off her with shaking hands. Backing up to the wall, she tried to control her breathing, but the sight before her was seriously freaking the hell out of her. She was bouncing frantically on her heels, at a loss of what to do next. Her fists were raised to each side of her head, yanking on damp hair.

She was still attempting to rip herself a couple bald spots when she smelled it again. The scent of something burning. Just following was the feeling of intense heat.

All around her.

Looking down, she yelped in horror. The entire towel covering her was glowing. Rabidly, she ripped at the cloth, trying desperately to strip herself of the towel. Her hands fumbled, and the knot against her chest got stuck.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck – " Finally, she managed to unwrap the towel from around her. She threw it blindly and dove into the bathroom.

The charged towel hit the lamp, which was still lit on the bedside table and blew. The lamp, in turn, erupted in a flash of light, adding to the explosion. There was a loud boom. And a lot of smoke. Shards of glass flew above Rogue and struck against the bathroom walls.

Rogue remained on the floor, letting the ringing in her ears fill the eerie void that always follows a loud burst of noise. After the buzz subsided somewhat, she allowed herself to cough and squirm. Rising once more on wobbly legs, she grabbed the edge of the sink and leaned into it. "Oh my god," she breathed. She let her head hang while forcing her racing heart to slow.

Without raising her head, she turned and walked back into the main room, flipping the light switch off as she passed through the doorway. Careful not to step on any pieces of glass, she stopped and looked down at the body lying limp on the floor. _Stupid mutated swamp rat_. She pulled her foot back and kicked him roughly in the ribs. "Asshole."

Remy made a strange gurgling sound and began to shift. His eyes opened, hazily. He looked up at her, his eyes not quite focusing on her nude form.

Wait...nude! _CRAAAP!_ Rogue squeaked and bolted for the bathroom. Slamming the door, she turned and leaned against it. Immediately, she was met by those two glowing eyes again. Screaming, she flailed her arm out, hitting the switch to turn on the light. The room blinked into view. The damp shower curtain, the bloody towel rack, the scattering of glass and metal. The mirror over the sink displaying a gaunt, scraggly girl with glowing red eyes and a terrified expression on her face staring back at her.

Rogue stepped closer, ignoring the crunch of debris under her bare feet, eyes transfixed on the reflection before her. With her face almost plastered to the mirror, she stared at her own wide eyes blinking back at her. Her irises were a glowing crimson set upon a sea of black.

She would have thought them rather pretty if she wasn't so utterly confused.

"_Qui est...quoi...je ne comprends pas..._.." Rogue reached out and touched her fingers to the glass in front of her, tilting her head to one side. "_Mais..._." She suddenly shook herself, turning away from the mirror. "Rogue..._Rogue_...Ah'm Rogue. Ah...am _...Rogue!_"

There was a gentle knock on the door. Rogue's body tensed immediately. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she did the only thing she could think of: lean her body against the door and grab onto the door knob for dear life.

"_Chere_?" It was so quiet and uncertain, Rogue barely heard it.

She took a while to respond. Clearing her throat, she raised her voice, which sounded hoarse and nervous. "...yeah?"

Remy was quiet for a moment. "Y'alright?"

"...yeah." She slid down until she was seated, back against the door. "You?"

"S'fine."

Another moment. "Remy?"

"...yeah, _Chere_?".

"Ah'm sorry."

There was a shifting of material and a crinkling of glass. Remy had slid down to the floor as well. She could almost feel the heat of his back against hers through the thick wood between them.

"Wasn't y'fault." A sigh. "Wish I knew y'was a mutant."

Rogue let a small, humourless smile touch her lips. "Ditto."

They both sat in the silence, neither knowing what to say. Finally, Rogue spoke. "Um...Remy?

"_Chere?"_

"Could ya grab me mah clothes?" She heard soft chuckling, so she slammed her fist into the door, pounding the spot where Remy's back was.

"Ach! _D'accord, d'accord! _I's gettin' 'em! Hold y'panties...oh wait...I de one holdin' dem, _non?_" His laughter was abruptly cut short as the door began to glow. "Fuckin–!" There was a loud slap as he threw his hands onto the door, neutralizing the charge. "Be careful wit' dat, will ya_? Dieu!"_

The door opened a crack, and a long, muscular arm slipped through, gripping a ball of clothing. Rogue immediately grabbed it and slammed the door shut again, nearly breaking Remy's elbow in the process.

Rogue dressed quickly. Before opening the door, she glanced in the mirror. Emerald eyes shined back at her. The moment she stepped through the threshold, she immediately wished she had stayed in the bathroom.

Remy sat on the edge of her bed. Legs spread, elbows resting on his thighs, his hands dangling between them. He was leaning forward with his head bowed, hair falling almost too perfectly for it to be considered natural. A fucking picture from one of Kitty's GQ magazines.

When he raised his head to look at her, she noticed just how pale and haggard he looked. Shame pierced her gut as she acknowledged that it was all because of her. Her poison.

They both looked at each other, sharing the same expression. The expression one gets when they have seen the harsh prejudice of society and has to live with the constant ache in the pit of their stomach, just yearning for acceptance. The desire to be considered human again. There was a complete, mutual understanding between them as their eyes latched onto each other. There was forgiveness in that stare.

Rogue, for the first time since the dawning of her mutation, felt understood. Neither thinking of anything appropriate to say, they remained silent as they broke their connection. Shaking off their comforters and ignoring the mess around them, they both retired to their beds, heads spinning with a million what-ifs and how-terribles. The dreams that awaited them did not provide much comfort.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A not-so-discrete shrieking of a synthetic strand of melody could be heard through the locked door with little sparkling heart stickers plastered all over.

"_Baby can't you see? I'm calling!_

_A guy like you should clear a warning!_

_It's dangerous..I'm falling!"_

Kitty Pryde was in her room, jumping around on her bed. After her roommate had up and gotten herself kidnapped, Kitty had the long-awaited opportunity of privacy and self-expression. With the gloomy teen gone, she now was able to tape her Calvin Klein Posters on the wall and use as much glitter as she wanted.

"_There's no escape, I can't wait!_

_I need a hit! Baby give me it!_

_Your dangerous; I'm loving it!"_

She tugged the gloves up past her elbow. She had raided Rogue's closet and was now decked out in a short black halter dress that had caught her eye a while back. She had rifled through her roommate's make up and laughed herself silly as she caked her face with thick eyeliner and black lipstick. Now, complete with a wild eighties' hairdo and fishnet garters, she watched herself in the mirror as she twisted and turned to the upbeat music of Britney Spears.

"_Too high, can't come down_

_losing my head, spinning round and round."_

She sprang high into the air, fingers brushing the ceiling. On the way down, she twisted and landed on the floor beside the bed in a sassy pose. She pointed at herself in the mirror, lip-syncing:

"_Do you hear me now!"_

She began dancing wildly around the room, spinning and thrusting and creating general chaos.

"_With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride!_

_Your toxic, I'm slipping under._

_With the taste of a poison paradise,_

_I'm addicted to you! Don't you know that you're toxic!"_

Kitty boogied back over to the bed, giggling. Posing in front of the mirror, she began to moan. "Oh! Ooooh! Ah'm Rogue, Ah'm Rogue! No, just let meh daahh!" she smacked the back of her hand to her forehead in an exaggerated version of the classic damsel-in-distress pose. She then spread her arms wide and swooned onto the bed, head and feet dangling off of the edge.

_POUND POUND POUND!_

The door swung open, crashing loudly against the wall.

Kitty shrieked in surprise and accidentally phased through the bed. Poking her head through the mattress, she recognized the looming silhouette of Wolverine in the doorway. The expression on his face was enough to have her sink back into the bed and stay there until she turned blue and passed out from lack of oxygen.

"Pryde. Out. Now."

Ducking her head, she crawled out of the bed, straightening to stand in front of Wolverine. His eyes traveled up and down her small frame and the muscles of his face spasmed. He was trying not to burst out laughing.

Blushing, Kitty quickly pulled out the white ribbons tied to her bangs. It took all of her might to keep from sinking into the floor.

Wolverine took a few more seconds to satisfy his sadism before speaking. "Meeting in ten. Briefing room. Don't be late." He turned to leave, but stopped halfway through the door. "Oh, and Pryde?"

Kitty had been ready to speed into the bathroom to lock herself in. She looked back at him shyly. "Um...yes, Mr. Logan?"

"I suggest changing. Black just isn't yer colour." He slammed the door shut behind him.

Kitty sagged, listening to the loud cackling echoing down the hallway. She was never going to live this down.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ooo, K-mart. Livin' large, Ah see."

"Eh, shut it. Y'ain't gon find every genre of materialism in a 30 foot radius anywhere else. Plus, we ain't got time t'make it t'Fifth Avenue before sundown, _hein_?"

Rogue gave Remy her best eye roll and hopped out of the car. After having spent most of the night staring at the darkened ceiling and loading the car before the first sign of sunlight, She had successfully ignored the awkward tension between them. Remy had not mentioned the events of the night before, and she was all too willing to do the same.

Entering the large store, she grabbed a plastic hand basket and shot straight to the hygiene aisles, not waiting to see if Remy followed. She began dropping various skin and make-up products into the basket hanging from her arm, hardly even glancing at what they were.

Turning into the hair care aisle, she found Remy with some complicated-looking mousse bottle in his hands, turning it around to read the label. Shrugging, he flipped it upside down and sprayed a big clump of foam into his hand. Setting the bottle down, he rubbed his hands together and slathered it through his hair.

Rogue just stood there, wide-eyed, watching him scan through the aftershaves.

" _Poo-yee-yi! Y'really should stick wit' d'Calvin Klein. Dat Axe shit smell like piss." _

"_Whatever y'say, Bella. Not like 's'my body or anyt'ing." _

_She turned away. "Galette stupide." _

"ROGUE! Driftin' on m'gain. Which one?" Remy held out two bottles in front of him.

Rogue shook her head, trying to clear the memory from her mind. "Oh, err..the Axe," she said distractedly. Her nose was almost immediately assaulted by a thick, offending aroma that only barely managed to hint at cinnamon. She walked up to Remy and grabbed the black bottle from his hand as he was about to stuff it in his coat. Placing it back on the shelf, she picked up the CK One and forced it into his hands. "Just trust me, kay?" She turned away from him to peek through the deodorants.

After watching Remy clip his nails, floss, shave, exfoliate, and tone, she finally gave into temptation. Snatching the vitamin-rich, acne fighting, SPF 15, 24-hour, milk-aloe conjunctive, all-action moisturizing cream from Remy's hand and slathered it liberally onto her skin, missing the peculiar look from the man beside her.

Fifteen minutes later, her basket was halfway full of bathroom supplies – most of them opened already – minus a box of tampons, which she tossed over to Remy to carry for her, just out of female principle. She was now in the clothing section, grabbing a variety of long sleeved shirts, button downs, skirts, nylons, scarves and jeans. She meandered to the lingerie section, grabbing the first packet of black underwear she could find, hardly even stopping to look at the sizes. She had always felt a little awkward during this part, even when shopping alone.

About to toss the handful of undergarments in the basket, she jumped at the voice behind her.

"Didn't know you were de t'ong type, _cherie. _Y'keep on surprisin' Remy, _non?"_

Again, way too close.

_Didn't the damned fool ever learn his lesson? _Rogue exhaled angrily through her nose. _"_Don't ya ever learn ya lesson, swamp rat? Give me some room ta breathe!"

Remy chuckled. "A'ight, _ma belle_, I'll leave ya to yo'..." his eyes sparkled, "...selection."

Rogue flipped the bird to the retreating form of the insufferable Cajun, whispering under her breath, "_bec mon chu, couill– _oh, crap." Snapping her mouth shut, she stomped over to the dressing rooms.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I don't, like, frickin believe this! You're saying she's out there, and we're not even trying to, like, go rescue her or anything?" Kitty, back in her regular pink jumpsuit, was practically leaping onto the glass conference table that resided in the X-men war room.

"Please, Katherine, I understand how difficult this must be, but at this point we need strategy and precision. Rogue's safety may very well be dependant on our actions." Professor Xavier turned his head to address the entire room. "I assure all of you that the greatest haste possible is being exuded."

Kitty plopped back down in her seat, however reluctantly, when Piotr tugged on her sleeve.

"Now," the Professor continued, "late last night, there was a rather large spark spotted in a small town just outside of Nashville, Tennessee . This lasted for approximately two hours, before dying out. However, within a half an hour, there is evidence of a lower atmospheric spike of animated energy holding the familiar patterns of the mutant signature..." he stopped when he noticed the blank stares from the rest of the team. "...Meaning...Rogue used her power."

The room was dead still. The only sound was the whispered_ "Mein Gott_" from Nightcrawler.

The three teenagers in the room exchanged glances. They had been invited to the meeting because they were Rogue's best friends...well, only friends, to be completely accurate. They may not have been as close to Rogue as they all wished to be, but they all equally cared about the lost, struggling adolescent who had tried so hard to block everyone out.

Bobby was the first to speak. "What can we do to help?"

Xavier smiled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rogue was wandering around the store with her basket, now filled to the brim, weighing down her arms uncomfortably. She had no clue where Remy was and no clue how to find him.

Finally, she just sat down on a bench outside of the tiny food court. Digging through the hand basket, she took out a brand new portable CD player, a packet of AA batteries and a few CDs she had found. Cracking open the plastic case holding the batteries, she popped in a couple into the diskman. Deciding on breaking in her new Faith Hill album, she settled down to listen to Mississippi Girl while watching people walk by.

Four songs later, there was a tap on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Remy leaning against the wall beside her, wearing green old-school oakleys.

"Like de shades, _Chere?" _He drawled with one of those drool worthy smiles.

"Yeah, Ah do." Rogue stood, plucking the glasses from his nose and placing them on her own. "Oo, they fit nice, too!"

Remy had turned toward the wall, away from the crowded walkway. He was unfolding his old sunglasses and raising them to his face when Rogue shot out her arm to stop him.

"Why so shy?"

Remy looked at her. A flicker of eye movement. The glowing irises seemed to bore into her look he gave her said that he knew about the growing warmness which was quickly spreading from the pit of her stomach. He spoke quietly. "When half de people who see'm run screamin' 'bout de devil reincarnate everytime y'look deir way, it tends t'become second nature."

"Well, bully for them; they're yellow cowards with a bigoted sense of humanity. We'll all be wearin' yellow stars on our sleeves before long. Ya might as well get a head start, yeah?" She stopped when Remy didn't smile. "Look, they ain't bad lookin' – hell, let's be honest, they're frickin' gorgeous – and ya got no reason ta hid 'em from me. Ah wore 'em for a while, remember? And Ah have ta say, that whole seein' in the dark thing's pretty damn cool."

Remy blew out a short laugh, cracking a small smile from one corner of his mouth. "Can see infra red, too."

They both smiled larger as the tense mood broke. Then, at the same time they looked down at Rogue's hand, still holding onto Remy's wrist. She immediately pulled away, but Remy caught her own wrist in one smooth movement.

"Same here, _hein? _None o'dis untouchable crap, y'hear? Y'got gloves on f'a reason, an' I ain't afraid o'ya."

Rogue pulled away gently, not able to look into his eyes any longer. She nodded awkwardly.

"_Bon_!" Remy said energetically, his demeanor changed so suddenly, it made Rogue's head spin. As if the previous discussion didn't happen at all. "Now," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright purple wallet with puppy dogs on the front. Handing it to Rogue, Remy continued, "why doncha get us a coupl'a hotdogs for de road an' meet m'outside in five minutes. An' make sure y'get one f'_both _of us,_ comprenez?_" he gave her a meaningful look before picking up her basket and sauntering off into the crowd, sunglasses safely back on his face.

Rogue looked down at the girly wallet, then back up to where Remy disappeared. Shaking her head, she walked into the food court, carefully waltzing between the groups of people.

Five minutes later, she was standing outside of K-mart, a hotdog in each hand, and a huge scowl on her face. The Honda was nowhere to be seen and neither was the Cajun.

She was still pondering over calling the Institute or going on a cross-country killing spree when a bright, shiny red Ferrari with a black convertible top and tinted windows pulled up in front of her. She automatically tensed, ready to throw a hotdog if the need arose.

The driver-side window slid down and Remy's face popped into view. "Whatcha waitin' for, _chere? _Y'comin'?"

She threw the hotdog as hard as she could.

"Eay, eay, eay, careful!" Somehow, Remy managed to catch the damned thing with only a slight smudge of mustard on his gloves.

Muttering under her breath, she rounded the car and got into the passenger seat. She loathed to admit it, but the car was _fine. _She looked behind her seat and found four shopping bags – noticeably _not _K-mart brand – full of various junk. She recognized some of her items. Turning around to face the front, she shook her head again – which seemed to become a regular habit when Remy was in the picture. "Do Ah even want to know how ya..."

Remy looked over and gave her his best good-ole -boy-smile.

"No. No, Ah really don't."

As they peeled out of the parking lot, Rogue opened the window and felt the wind blow against her face and through her hair. She took off her floppy hat and slid on the oakleys. Suddenly remembering her description on the news, she smiled down at the hat.

As the car accelerated well past the legal speed limit, she threw the hat out of the window, watching in the side-view mirror as it flew through the air, drifting slowly onto the road behind them.

"_Bon voyage," _Rogue whispered.


	10. Crime for Crime

**Interesting tidbit: **The scene outside the bar is loosely based on an actual sign that I saw hanging in a bar in Nashville last summer. It really astounded me how openly biased people are allowed to be.

The title of this chapter is a song by (yet again...see a trend yet?) Ani Difranco. It is an amazingly powerful song that I encourage you all to check out. It sends such a strong message that relates to mutant (well, any) prejudice and condemnation. I've added the lyrics at the end of the chapter.

Thanks for your patience, guys.

**Crime for Crime**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
**

_He watched in horror as the frail girl swayed in the wind. The rope which suspended her 228 feet above the streets of Paris creaked as it moved. He was too far away from her to hear her screams, but they echoed inside Remy Lebeau's head non the less. _

"_Make your choice, coonass, or they both die!" The animalistic snarl ripped through the air. _

_Remy hesitated for a moment more. There was a growl and the two ropes tied around a pair of open-mouthed gargoyles snapped loose. Screams echoed against each other. Heart pushing into his throat, Remy sprung into action, hopping it would not be too late. _

_Sprinting over the grainy stone of the north tower of Notre Dame, he drew his bow staff from his pocket. With a flip of his wrist, it extended fluidly. Circling it around himself a few times, he ran towards the south tower. A row of monstrous statues gaped at him as she sped passed. He jumped onto the ledge, digging his staff into a jagged crevice between the stone bricks. Leaning into the momentum, he pushed off of the edge, flying into the air. _

_In the back of his mind, he calculated the distance between the two falling figures. If he timed it just right, he would be able to grab the heavier one first, stabilize his fall and have just enough time to grab the other. _

_As he leaped into the air, he tucked into a ball then pushed his arms and legs out into a sharp dive, the movement pushing him downward at back-breaking speed. He soon caught up with the first falling body. _

_Larger and heavier than Remy himself, the man – arms still bound with a long tail of rope trailing above him – knew to lengthen his body horizontally as much as he could to slow his downfall. Spread out onto his stomach, the man watched the world rapidly approaching with seemingly no emotion as he remained relaxed and stable in the air. It was easy for Remy to swoop down to him and grab him around the bulky torso. Immediately, Remy pulled him into an upright position. Grabbing the rope, he quickly twisted it around his staff in a loose knot, then threw it toward the wall of the cathedral. It hit an angry gargoyle in the side of the face, which caused it to rebound and flip, effectively wrapping the rope around the creature's neck. _

_As the rope tightened, breaking the their fall, Remy swung their bodies toward the cathedral, pushing his legs out in front of them. His feet met glass as they crashed into a stained-glass window. Colour exploded around him as sharp pieces of multi-chrome angels few around them. Tumbling to the floor, Remy wasted no time to somersault into a standing position. _

_Taking only a fraction of a second, he reached down and touched the rope tied his brother. It sizzled and popped. Scooping up the end , along with a small piece of broken glass, he took three running steps to jump back out of the window. He charged the shard and threw it upward, cutting the rope from his bow staff. He unconsciously noted that it had once been an end to an angel's feathery wing._

_He continued to cut through the air, his long hair and leather trench whipping behind him. He was going to make it. He had to make it. Remy would not allow the death of an innocent to fall on his shoulders. _

_The girl was thrashing around, screaming at the top of her lungs. She was falling fast. Remy twisted the rope around his arm securely, then tied the other end into a loop and lassoed it onto anouther neck of an even uglier gargoyle as he came inches away from the flailing girl. He reached down and grabbed her hips, but the girl reacted violently and ripped away from his grasp. He groped the air beneath him and brushed the hem of her silk dress, but his fingers caught nothing but air. The realization shot through him in a painful shockwave seconds before the denouement. _

_Remy heard the sickening slap as her body hit the pavement. Almost immediately after, the rope ran out of slack and snapped taught. His body jerked violently and there was a jarring crack as his shoulder dislocated from its socket. Remy was flung back into the air, then snapped down again. Up, down, up down. When the rope finally stilled, Remy hung listlessly, staring down at the streets below him. _

_There was a howl above him. _Dis is f'you, Sabertoot', _Remy swore, _One day I return de favour.

Rogue jerked upright in her seat. "Sabertooth!'

The car spasmed and squealed as Remy slammed on the breaks. The cars behind them honked angrily, but Remy paid them no mind as he searched the road ahead of them.

Rogue was panting and covered her face with her hands.

"Rogue."

"No...it's...Ah had a ...flashback, is all."

Remy slowly sped the car up again. The cars behind him switched lanes to pass, yelling unheard obscenities at them.

He spoke quietly. "Y'knew Sabertoot'?"

"Unfortunately."

"Yeah..." Remy took a deep breath. "He an' I have some unfinished business."

"Ah know."

Rogue flushed under the sharp look that was directed her way. "Ah..uh..it's part of mah powers. Touchin' someone soaks up little pieces of them. Like memories and personality traits. When they're a mutant, Ah get their powers, too..." she trailed off.

"An' so y'know everythin' 'bout me now?"

"No, just little bits and pieces. They kinda come randomly."

Remy exhaled, looking relieved.

Smirking, she continued, "Ah_ do_ know where ya hide ya cards durin' poker games." She laughed when she saw the Cajun's ears redden.

"_Merde." _

Rogue continued to laugh for a full minute and a half. Remy finally grabbed an empty Tim Horton's coffee cup and chucked it at her.

"Achhk! Hahah...hey..hahhah!" Her sides began to cramp and she bent over, attempting to breath.

"So...Dis is permanent? Do I have t'deal wit dis f'de rest of de trip?"

Rogue hiccoughed, finally calming down. She rested her head on the window, still supporting a wide smile. It weakened as she began to speak. "It fades after 'while...the memories seem ta keep creepin' up on me, though. Gets kinda crowded, actually."

"What y'mean, _chere?_"

"Well...it's as if a little mini version the person gets stuck in mah mind. Like a psyche. They don't like it much, either," she added sardonically.

"Y'mean...what...dey _talk _t'ya or somethin'?"

Rogue just nodded, solemn once more.

"Freaky." He noticed her shoulders hunch at that. "In a cool way, d'ough." No reaction. "Least y'never get lonely, _non_?"

Rogue snorted. "It's like bein' in a room full of bullies," she said under her breath.

"What dat, _chere?"_ though he had heard her perfectly clear.

"Nuthin'."

Back to one word sentences. Not good. "Well, if mini-me in dere starts makin' trouble, y'just tell me an' I put em in his place, _hein?"_

That got a small smile out of her.

"Hows about we stop in Nashville an' do a bit a tourin'? Ever been t'Nashville?

She shook her head.

"_Bon, bon! _Not f'long!"

He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the Ferrari sped down the freeway, passing the still-agitated drivers within seconds, causing jealous scowls and more honking.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The simple melodic trills of a key board filled the metallic room. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Soon the voice of his favourite singer wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

_You know and I know My Clone Sleeps Alone  
She's out on her own - forever_.

He sighed. What a beautiful voice.

_She's programmed to work hard, she's never profane  
She won't go insane, not ever_

He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling his stomach churn in anticipation as the music rose in intensity.

_No V.D., no cancer, OnTV's the answer  
No father, no mother, she's just like the other  
And you know and I know, My Clone Sleeps Alone_

Then the drums began and the song took on a faster, upbeat pace.

_Your clone loves my clone, but yours cannot see  
That's no way to be, in heaven  
No sorrow, no heartache, just clone harmony  
So obviously, it's heaven_

_No naughty clone ladies allowed in the eighties  
No bed names, no sex games, just clone names and clone games  
And you know and I know My Clone Sleeps Alone_

His eyes squinted as they began to water. It was really a beautiful song. So emotive and touching. When the first tear escaped past his thick lashes, he rose into a seated position, placing both hands on the edge of the cot for support as he bent his head down.

_Before we existed the cloning began  
The cloning of man and woman  
When we're gone they'll live on, cloned endlessly  
It's mandatory in heaven_

He stood and walked over to a small metal cabinet. The room was mostly bare steel, with only a musty cot, a sink, a few filing cabinets and harsh neon lighting. The only decoration was a tattered poster of Pat Benatar rocking away with a microphone. Opening the top drawer, he withdrew something round and shiny. He shook it gently. When he held it up to the light, it revealed itself to be a small snow globe. The little pieces of snow flew around in a dainty blizzard, encircling three identical ballerinas who held their hands high in a circle.

_But they won't remember or ever be tender  
No loving, no caring, no program for pairing  
No V.D., no cancer, OnTV's the answer  
No father, no mother, she's just like the other_

His breath hitched in his throat. It really was all so beautiful.

_No naughty clone ladies allowed in the eighties  
And you know and I know My Clone Sleeps Alone!_

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

_My Clone Sleeps Alone_!

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

_My Clone Sleeps Alone_!

_**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**_

"WHAT!" He roared, angered that someone had the audacity to interrupt his beloved Pat's song. Replacing the globe and slamming the drawer shut, he spun around and waited for the door to open, his face twisted into a fierce, intimidating scowl, his eyes glowing menacingly.

The door slowly swung open, and a man in uniform stood in the frame. His arms were draped haphazardly on his automatic rifle which hung from his shoulder. He remained still and silent.

The man waited for the solder to speak, but when it was clear that the boy wouldn't start on his own, he growled and barked, "out with it! Or are you so intent on wasting my time?"

The armed young man immediately began to speak, energetically but without any trace of emotion. "Sir, we have recently been alerted to a possible sighting of a level red AWOL, believed to be Subject G369."

He turned his head and looked at the poster, as if silently asking Pat for strength. "And where is he?"

"We do not know, sir."

His head snapped back at the shoulder. "_What_...do you _mean..._ you do not _know? _I _thought_ there was a _sighting." _His voice was low and dangerous.

The young man before him did not even flinch. "Trackers are working now to follow the trail. We should be able to catch up to him in a matter of days, sir."

"Then what are you doing standing around here for! Get to work! I want the bastard _found. _He has eluded me for too long! I _will_ have him caught_! Go!" _Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled fanatically. The solder turned and marched away, showing no reaction to the outburst.

Alone again, the man heaved himself onto the cot, his eyes staring a hole into the ceiling. He whispered under his breath, "_Gambit..." _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So what's with the nickname, anyway? Ah thought only the mutants playin' superhero got a codename. Why Gambit?"

"Y'even know what a gambit is?"

Rogue's face twitched as she kept her gaze on the crowd in front of them. She and Remy were strolling down the heavily populated street in Nashville, aptly named Broadway. There were long strips of small buildings on each side of the road. Every other building harbored a packed bar, and in between them were stores that facilitated musical supplies, CDs, and/or instruments.

"Yeah, of course Ah know what a gambit is." She did another little jig around a particularly raucous group of teenagers, careful to keep a safe distance away from any bare limbs.

Remy raised his eyebrow, looking amused at her continuous, rather comical assertion of distance while in public. He also caught the split-second of indecision. "_Oui?_ What is it, den?"

Her eyes flicked to him for a brief moment before she scowled immaturely. A sort of sound emitted from her that was something between a _humph_ and a _snort. _

Remy chuckled, watching her frown deepen. "A gambit's a strategy in chess when y'sacrifice a minor piece in order t'gain an advantage over de ot'er player. Actually, _mon pere _used t'call me dat when I was young. S'my style. I's willin' t'forfeit de little t'ings t'get ahead. Don't make me too popular, but I never lose."

"So why the cards? Why don't ya carry 'round a chess set an' throw pawns at people? At least it'd have some allegorical relevance."

That pulled a loud, sharp bark out the Cajun. _"_As long as y'carry em all f'me. 'Sides, y'only get thirty two hits. Wit' de cards," a deck appeared in his hands seemingly from nowhere, and he began to shuffle them skillfully to assist his point, "y'get 55."

Rogue nodded in understanding for a few seconds before doing a mental double-take. "Wait, fifty five? Aren't there fifty two cards in a deck?"

A boyish smile spread across Remy's face. "Not if y'include de jokers and instruction card."

Rogue turned to punch him in the shoulder and Remy sprang back melodramatically, covering his face with his arms while hunching down. When the playful blow never came, he looked up through the space between his elbows and found his assaulter frozen in place, one fist up in mid-swing, wide eyes staring past him.

He whipped around, discreetly flicking some cards into his hands.

There was no one behind him.

He looked back at Rogue, who was still staring ahead in a glassy-eyed, mesmerized stupor. He walked up to her carefully and waved a hand in front of her face.

No reaction.

He poked her in the shoulder a few times, seeing if she would tip over like some fleshy statue.

Rogue didn't respond to him, but began walking forward in a trance. She approached the large display window of the music store that they had stopped in front of. She raised her hand and touched the smooth glass.

On the other side was a display of instruments. In the centre was a beautiful left-handed acoustic guitar, painted a stunning jade green with intricate black bordering.

In Rogue's mind, the Hallelujah Chorus was blaring away – if a bit off key, as none of the guys in her head actually knew how to sing.

Remy came up beside her, staring at the guitar. "Well," he said, leaning against the window, watching her face, "s'pose y'like guitars, den."

"It's the most gorgeous thing Ah've evah seen." Her voice was misty and light with awe.

"So's de price tag."

Her eyes shifted to the little piece of paper tied to one of the strings and convulsed into a series of tics. "That's obscene." She slowly began walking again, Remy following at her side. Her eyes still weren't focusing completely, her mind still wrapped around the mocking display.

"Didn't know y'were left handed, _chere." _The voice cut through Rogue's reverie, and she shook her head.

"Ah ain't. When Ah taught mahself how ta play back in Coldecott, the only guitar available was this cruddy old thing that belonged to mah school. It was a lefty, so Ah didn't have much choice in the matter. Ah'm glad, though. Gave me a challenge." She sighed. "Crap, that's a nice piece a wood! Some hillbilly's probably gonna buy it an' have his two-year-old slobber all over it while it teethes."

"Well, it looked like y'were 'bout t'do just dat_." _

Rogue was about to punch him again when someone was violently shoved into her. "Hey, watch it!" Her voice held an angry tone, but her face revealed her panic, and she automatically recoiled, but ended up bumping into Remy. She was about to jerk back from him but was stopped when Remy wrapped his arms around her, protectively.

He looked almost as surprised as Rogue. They reluctantly parted, leaving an awkward distance between them.

The man who had crashed into her fell to the ground and an angry group of people swarmed around him. "Ah just wanted a drink, man! No trouble!" His voice was muffled as his arms were covering his head, warding off any pending blows.

It was then that Rogue noticed the grey tint to the man's skin. On closer inspection, the man – a boy really; he couldn't have been much older than herself – had tiny, almost indecipherable scales covering his skin. There was no body hair at all, as far as Rogue could see. She had a feeling things were going to get really ugly, really fast.

"We don't want none of yer kind here, freak! I don't wanna see your gross excuse for a face here again, or else!"

The trembling mutant raised his face, which bared a striking resemblance to the Swamp Thing – to the bar owner towering over him. It looked for a moment that we was going to retort, to defend himself, but in the end, he just turned his face away and nodded submissively. He slowly rose to his feet.

Before the boy even had time to straighten, Remy was stepping passed him to face the owner. "Or else what, _mon ami_?" His voice was low and carried an unmistakable thread of danger.

The Owner wasn't impressed. "Or else he ain't gonna be needing those gills of his for much longer."

"Dat so?"

"Remy..." Rogue cautioned under her breath. She tried to pull him back, but he wouldn't budge.

"An' where 'xactly it say muties can' sit an' have a beer?" He swatted at Rogue's hand yanking on his coat like a bug. "Scat!"

The fat man in front of him smiled grotesquely. "There." He pointed to a large, crooked sign behind him which was pasted in the window of the bar. In thick, black lettres, it read:

**No tanktops on men**

**No sanduls or bear feet**

**No faggs**

**No muties**

Remy cocked his head to the side. "At least dey got de _muties _part right." He looked back to Rogue and Mr. Gillyweed, the latter looking a bit green around the gills – literally– with an expression on his face that clearly indicated he would rather be anywhere but in the middle of this brewing cockfight.

Rogue was about to turn to the fish-boy to attempt some consoling, but she caught a slight movement in the corner of her eye. That little flick of the wrist that was becoming increasingly more familiar to her– and normally meant nothing good was about to follow.

Apparently the mutant beside her caught it too, for a slender, webbed hand reached out and touched the card that was glowing slightly in Remy's hand. The card immediately began rippling, becoming transparent. In a blink of an eye, the card liquefied and splashed between Remy's fingers.

Rogue gaped and Remy started, whipping around, glaring. But fish-boy was no where to be seen. _He must have slipped away...somehow_ Rogue thought as she looked around the crowd. She didn't notice the large puddle of water that was weaving between the feet of the gathered on-lookers, gliding away from the scene.

Rogue and Remy exchanged glances. Remy was moving for another card, but Rogue shook her head. He blew out a puff of air, looking at her for a moment, considering the options. Finally, he nodded and turned back to the owner, who was looking about frantically, looking decidedly more sour having lost his prey.

"Well," Remy spoke with a startling calmness, "dat's dat. Bickering wit' de bigots makes m'thirsty. I wanna drink." He slid through the men blocking the bar entrance and disappeared inside without looking back.

Rogue and the bar owner looked at each other, sharing the same look of confusion on their faces. Rogue shrugged with her hands and followed the Cajun into the bar, leaving the fat man behind to deal with the crowd.

Inside, the cramped room was dark and musty, the air smelling thickly of cigarette smoke– a prerequisite for all bars. Remy was already seated on a stool and smiling at the bartender who regarded the Cajun with open suspicion.

Rogue saddled up beside him and sat down, feeling a bit awkward.

"Two double shots a whiskey, one f'me an' one f'de lady."

Startled, she looked at Remy, then back at the man behind the bar but remained silent. With the last couple of days she's been having, she certainly deserved a little kick.

"IDs?"

Again, Rogue started, looking guiltily between the two men. "Oh, Ah, uh, forgot mah license. Musta...left it at home. Ah'll just have a– "

"Nonsense, _cherie_. It in y'wallet where it always is."

Rogue looked at Remy blankly. She recognized that..._innocent._..look on his face. Something was up.

"S'in y'back pocket, _non? _I 'member it bein' stuffed back dere," he added while pulling out his own wallet – a long, leather business-y one that she hadn't seen before.

_Ah'll smack that little smirk right of his face. Ah threw away that ugly, girly thing he gave me –" _she stopped mid-thought when she reached into her back pocket...and pulled out a compact little wallet with an intricate 'D' in flowy blue script on the front.

She looked at it stupidly for a few seconds before Remy nudged her. Her lips twitched and she opened it, revealing a drivers license with a picture of a young woman who looked strikingly like herself. The nose was a little wider, the eyes were brown, and, of course, there was a lack of white highlights, but the similarities were impressive. She really didn't want to know how Remy pulled this shit off.

The bartender hardly glanced at it before wordlessly filling up two shot glasses and slamming them in front of the two.

"Well," Remy picked up his glass and motioned for Rogue to do the same. "To an adventure dat'd make Bonnie an' Clyde proud!"

Rogue smirked and clinked her glass to his. Together, they knocked back the fiery fluid, allowing it to burn away all the vexation and grief from the outside world.

**Crime for Crime**

**by Ani Difranco**

_the big day has come  
the bell is sounding  
I run my hands through my hair one last time  
outside the prison walls  
the town is gathering  
people are trading crime for crime_

_everyone needs to see the prisoner  
they need to make it even easier  
they see me as a symbol, and not a human being  
that way they can kill me  
say it's not murder, it's a metaphor  
we are killing off our own failure  
and starting clean_

_standing in the gallows  
everyone turned my way  
I hear a voice ask meif I've got any last words to say  
and I'm looking out over the field of familiar eyes  
somewhere in a woman's arms a baby cries_

_Isay, guilt and innocence  
they are a matter of degree  
what might be justice to you  
might not be justice to me  
I went too far, I'm sorry  
I guess now I'm going home  
so letyea amongst you cast the first stone_

_now we've got all these complicated machines  
so no one person ever has to have blood on their hands  
we've got complex organizations  
and if everyone just does their job  
no one person has to understand_

_you might be the wrong colour  
you might be too poor  
justice isn't something just anyone can afford  
you might not pull the trigger  
you might be out in the car  
and you might get a lethal injection  
'cause we take a metaphor that far_

_the big day has come  
the bell is sounding  
I run my hands through my hair one last time  
outside the prison walls  
the town has gathered  
people are trading crime for crime_


	11. J'envie de Toi

_**J'ai Envie de Toi**_

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
**_

"Cheezit?"

"Bobby! We're tracking after your kidnapped girlfriend, and you're eating junk food. You, like, totally need to get your priorities in order. Aren't you, like, even scared for her?" Kitty twisted in her seatbelt to face the boy beside her.

They were currently in the backseat of Scott's Hummer, on their way down to Tennessee in hopes of tracking down Rogue. The team had split, half traveling by air, half by road. Piotr had gone with the former, which left Kitty rather disappointed, not to mention annoyed at being stuck alone with the bottomless pit called Iceman.

"Of course I am!" the words were a bit slurred as Bobby tried to defend himself and stuff crackers into his mouth at the same time. "But she's a tough chick. It's not like anything could happen to her! No one'd be able to lay a finger on her." He stopped when his mouth became too full to talk around his food, so he took a moment to chew and swallow, before resuming his speech – not before popping a few more cheezits into his mouth.

_Uuughh, teenaged boys! _Kitty thought to herself.

"Besides, she kind of had it coming, didn't she? All the moping and biting people's heads off. At least now she can whine over how horrible her life is legitimately. She's probably having the time of her life, wallowing in all that self-pity!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mah life sucks." Rogue was leaning over the bar, head resting on her folded arms. Six overturned shot glasses were littered around her, along with a huge glass half filled with a long island ice tea.

"Seriously, if mah life were a mosquito, an' Ah was out in the jungle, Ah would be...what's that word again? When ya...do tha thang? Ya know..." She kicked her stool with the heel of her boot in frustration. "Fuck. Remy, help meh out heah! Ya know, when ya get all...ya know!"

Remy raised his eyebrow. "Intoxicated?"

"Yeah, that's it! Intoxi – hey, wait...no!" She tried to deliver her usual punch in the shoulder, but missed by half a foot. Before she could even register the fact that she was falling forward, she found her face smushed up against Remy's chest. Inhaling deeply, she sighed. "Ahhh... Calvin Klein. Much better..."

Remy grabbed her arms gently and pushed her back onto her stool. "Y'life don't suck, _chere. _So, y'been given a bit of a challenge. Jus' shows how strong y'are. Ya young an' healt'y...need t'eat a little more, _mais_ we's workin' on dat...an' look, y'travelin' de country wit' such _un beau Cadien_ as me. Sittin' in a bar, drinkin' fine quality sout'ern whiskey, surrounded by bigots. What's so sucky 'bout dat?"

_It's _because_ Ah'm sittin' next to a sexy -as -hell Cajun – one that ah can nevah touch!_ Rogue thought to herself. Aloud, she said, "'cause...I gotta pee real bad, but Ah don't think Ah can make it all the way ovah theah to the bathroom."

Remy fell off his stool, caught in a violent fit of laughter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Omigod, Bobby Drake! I can't believe you just said that! Rogue's your _girlfriend_!"

"Or as much of one as she can be. Kinda hard when she can't even do the shit that girlfriends are supposed to do."

Kitty scrunched up her nose in confusion. "Like what?"

"Like...go down on me, or even give me a – "

"EEEEWWWWW! That's like, so totally disgusting!" Kitty leaned forward and reached her hand through the back of the passenger's seat, pulling a startled Nightcrawler into the backseat. She phased through the pristine black leather, ending up in the passenger seat herself. Bucking up, she crossed her arms and huffed.

Beside her, Scott clenched his jaw. "No. Powers. In. The. Car," he almost growled.

Kitty looked at him with an exasperated look. "Oh, _please!_ I know what I'm doing. It wasn't _my_ phasing that did _that,_" she emphasized, pointing at the side-view mirror which still had a big dent where the plastic was blown off the edge and a small crack running through the corner of the glass.

Scott did growl this time, reminding Kitty of Wolverine's Happy Sunday mornings.

They remained silent for a few miles, before Bobby spoke up. "Hey, can't we listen to some music or something? It's getting boring." He accentuated this statement with a loud crunch as he stuffed a handful of cheezits into his mouth.

"Oh, give me that!" Kitty reached back and snatched the box of crackers out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"Deal!" Kitty settled back in her seat. "No wonder Rogue ran away or whatever, she probably got sick of you being such a total airhead!" She looked out the window, watching the cars they passed, nibbling on a cheezit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rogue was laughing so hard, her sides began to ache. "No..no, no! Tha's so...not..." she stopped when another round of giggles took over. "...funnnnny!" She took a large gulp of her cosmo, slamming the glass down hard on the bar. The last of the drink spilled over her hand, which only caused her to giggle even harder.

Remy was having trouble breathing as well; his body shook violently with silent laughter.

"Okay...no...okay, Ah got one." Rogue scrunched her eyebrows together as she attempted a coherent line of thought. "Okay... so there wasa couple a...well, not a _couple _couple but a...a...y'know...so, two men was walking down the street, talkin' away, doin' men thangs...an' they pass this li'l bull dog bended ovah, lickin' his balls. The firs' guy turns ta th'other an' says, 'gee, Ah wish Ah coul' do that.' An' the secon' guy says, 'maybe ya should pet 'em firs'!'"

That sent Remy over the edge. He howled with laughter, doubling over and almost falling off of his stool.

While both of them continued gasping for air, an old man in a white, sweat- stained t -shirt passed by, scowling at them, muttering something about 'damn kids' and 'menace to society.'

Rogue and Remy's laughter died, replaced with two very large, mischievous smirks. They looked at each other and nodded slightly in agreement.

Remy slipped off his stool fluidly and began strolling slowly across the room, hands in his pockets. He was soon lost in the crowd that had accumulated in the past hour they had been there.

Rogue turned back to the number of empty drinks in front of her, snorting in amusement. She looked at the dirty mirror behind the rows of liquor bottles. Her reflection stared back at her with large, dilated eyes. Her make up was smudged beyond repair. She sloppily took a napkin and dipped it in the glass of clear liquid in front of Remy's spot, her mind too clouded to remember that it wasn't water that he had been drinking. She blotted the napkin over her face, wiping as much of the heavy makeup off as she could. After having practically scrubbed her skin raw, she stopped and opened her eyes.

It took a few seconds for the vodka to seep past her eyelashes.

"AHH! Fuck! Shit! Oh, fuckin'...Son of a bitch!" Rogue writhed, slapping her hands over her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she felt her eyes water and overflow, sending a stream of tears down her face.

She had just managed to recover and cease flailing around when Remy returned. Bouncing onto his seat with a rather smug grin, Remy faced Rogue and prepared to speak. Before any words made it past his lips, he noticed the tear streaks running down her face. Immediately his arrogant expression turned to one of concern. "_Chere..._what's de matter? What's wrong?"

Rogue responded a loud, ungraceful snort, which quickly turned into tittering, which soon blew into a wheezing guffaw.

Remy could only look on as the small girl in front of him roared manically, pointing at his drink. He shook his head in bemusement.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The package arrived within hours. It would have been delivered even faster if Marius hadn't been forced to sneak under the gaze of the ever diligent and highly invasive Russian Mafia.

"Fuckin' Ruskies," he muttered under his breath as he ripped open the package, barely noting the wrapping paper. Papa Boudreaux, rightful leader of the New Orleans' Assassin's Guild, had never been known for his sense of humour. Taking out the varnished box, Marius ran his fingers over the intricate lock. He knew it was, though small, one of the most advanced locking systems one could find. Taking out a small key dangling from a chain around his neck, he inserted it into the small hole and twisted a few times in a rhythmic pattern. After about fifteen seconds, the lock finally clicked open.

Taking care to rotate the key one more time, lest the mechanism automatically relock, he carefully opened the lid. A wide grim spread across his face. Taking ruby into his hands, he raised it into the light, basking in the glittering light which shone from it. What a beauty. Too bad it had to be destroyed.

At that moment, the heavy oak doors to his private office swung open, banging loudly against the walls.

A gorgeous, buxom blonde entered, swaying seductively on her five inch stilettos. Her blood red lips, full and perfect, were drawn into a fierce frown.

Marius bit back a groan as he watched his daughter advance upon him.

"Daddy!" Came the high-pitched whine Marius had expected. Nevertheless, his eyes automatically squinted as the nettling tone pierced through his brain. Marius wondered why she bothered with a gun at all.

"_Oui, ma fille?" _

"Julien won' give m'back mah — oh, _daddy!" _she stopped, staring at the ruby dangling from Marius' thick fingers. "Is dat for _moi?" _Belle's eyes grew wide and shiny, like two twin sapphires looking upon a sister gem.

Marius rolled his eyes, dropping the ruby back into its case. "_Non, Ma fille._ Dis be business." He ignored the childish pout that appeared on his daughter's face. "Why don' y'go ask Marianne t'go shoppin' wit'ya. Get dose new shoes y'been moanin' about." He shut the lid to the wooden case so he could reach into his pocket to give his loving little brat a couple hundreds, but the movement caused the discarded wrapping paper to shift, unveiling the ace of spades laying face up on the mahogany desk. Marius tensed.

It took but moments for the ear-piercing scream to echo around the room. Quick as lightning, Bella Donna – self-proclaimed sexiest assassin on this side of the Mississippi – jumped onto the desk and snatched the card up with strained, claw-like fingers. Set in a crouch, Belle turned her head to snarl at her father. "_Where_...did you get_ dis?"_ She held up the card between her talons.

Marius gulped. This was not going to end well. He forced his voice to remain calm. "Jus' doin' business, Belle."

The blonde harpy in front of him growled deep within her throat. "_You_ said y'didn't know where he was."

"I don', Belle, _chere._ He just de middle man, _hein? _De go-between. Y'know how dat goes. No information passed. For protection. I don' know where dis come from, and dey don' know where dis is goin'. I don' need t'tell y'dat."

Belle was staring at the card. If she had heard a word he said, she gave no indication. A dazzling smile slowly spread across her face, causing a wave of ice to spill down Marius' backbone. "Maybe I should get dose shoes after all," she said in a low, mischievous voice.

When the door slammed shut behind her, Marius sagged in his chair, letting out a jagged breath. This was not good. Not good at all. "_Merde,"_ he swore under his breath.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Damn...that's a lotta condoms." Rogue squinted her eyes as she held a packet of trojans in front of her. Half a dozen more packets unrolled themselves, spiraling down and hitting the top of the bar. "Ya really think 'e needs alls them?"

Remy looked over, checking which wallet she had in hand. "Naw. Bet dose have been tucked in dere for a couple of years, _oui?"_

Rogue looked again at the driver's license lodged between the worn folds of cheap leather. The face that stared back at her reminded her of a fellow mutant she had met a while back. He went by the name of Blob. Mean SOB. Rogue turned the photo sideways, shaking her head to clear the rather annoying bout of double vision which seemed to be plaguing her. _Naw...Blob had more hair,_ she thought.

_If you could call it that. That kid had a head as greasy as the pizza he inhaled every morning, _a loud, contentious voice echoed through her brain.

_Fuck. Yuu needda stop enlight'in' us wid yuur past sex-capades. HAHAHA!_

_Dude, that was not funny. _

_Fer a redneck, I would of thought you'd have a higher alcohol tolerance. This is just pathetic. Even the skinny bitch is doin' better than you._

_Ehhhh! Jus' cause ya got suuuper human healin' don' mean – _

_WILL Y'ALL JUST SHUT UP? _

…

_Woah... that never worked before,_ Rogue thought in a fuzzy sort of reflection.

"Chere?"

"Yeah, yeah, Ah'm here! So, who else ya got?" Rogue smirked over at her companion, who returned the gesture, reaching into his coat and taking out a bag. Turning it upside down over the bar, dozens of wallets tumbled onto the counter.

Rogue couldn't help but burst into another fit of giggles. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, she knew that tomorrow she will be mortified at partaking in the embarrassingly girlish action...that is, if she happened to remember anything come morning. Turning her head slightly, she noticed the Cajun staring rather intently at her face. Her first reaction was to scowl, but it shifted quickly into a foolish grin as she snorted back the rest of her laughter. "What?"

Remy shook his head. "Y'know, you's got a real pretty face. Y'don' need all dat paint t'cover it all up all de time."

Rogue shrugged uncomfortable, suddenly feeling rather naked without the comfort of her usual layers of make-up. "Yeah...I do."

"_Pourquoi?"_

Rogue just shrugged again.

Remy regarded her with deep, glowing eyes. "S'nother mask, ain't it? Jus' anot'er barrier t'keep y'from de rest of de world, _non?" _

Rogue's eyes flashed with indignance. She inhaled deeply in preparation of a lengthy, loud retort. Opening her mouth and rising halfway off of her stool, she began to screech, "Now, ya see here, _swamp rat!_ Ya don' know nuthin' about meh, or nuthin' 'bout mah pow – ahhhhrs!" Tripping on her own feet, Rogue collapsed to the ground like a pile of bricks.

Remy couldn't help but start to laugh. "_Dieu!"_

"Ah'm alright! Ah'm fine!" Rogue's arms flapped wildly in the air, hitting Remy in the knees. "Just...Ah'm stuck!"

With a chuckle, Remy bent down and pulled the fallen southern bell to a standing position. Smiling widely, he drawled out, _"Tu es chaude quand tu es bu, pischouette. Tu es fou, mais chaude. Dieu, j'ai envie de toi desesperement _."

_Waah wah waah wah waaaah_. Rogue began to snicker again, reminding herself of the unintelligible sounds the invisible adults always made in those Charlie Brown cartoons. Normally she understood French fairly well, but with the cotton stuffed in her ears combined with Sweet Home Alabama playing for the fourth time in the background, he might as well have been speaking Pig Latin. "Ah can't understand a word ya sayin'."

Remy smiled. "I t'ink y'd better slow down a bit."

Rogue bristled. "Ah think Ah'm cap'ble of deciden' when Ah had enough, Thank ya very mush! Mun...Much!" She ripped herself from Remy's strong grasp. Immediately the room started to spin and Rogue's knees had somehow disappeared for the moment.

Remy caught her before she hit the floor again.

Leaning into Remy's shoulder, face buried in the lapel of his trench coat, Rogue swallowed back bile as she waited for the roller coaster to come to a complete stop. "Ah...think Ah've had enough."

Remy chuckled under his breath, shifting his hold on the swooning girl in front of him in the classic 'assisting the bumbling drunk in the art of walking' position. Throwing a few bills onto the table and leaving the pile of stolen wallets on the bar, Remy dragged his _tres belle_ and totally wasted partner-in -crime out of the bar.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Translations:

_"Tu es chaude quand tu es bu, mon capon. Tu es fou, mais chaude. Dieu, j'ai envie de toi desesperemen_t"- You're hot when you're drunk, little girl. you're crazy, but hot. God, I want you desperately.


	12. Heartbreaker

A/N: It's alive! It's alive! Mwahahahaha!

**Heartbreaker**

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

The door crashed open, illuminating the posh hotel room with the faint glow of the hallway lights. Remy clomped heavily through the doorframe, lugging a giggling, squirming Rogue over his shoulder.

"Pppssssssshhh, Ah c'n walk, yah know!"

"Sure y'can, _chere," _Remy grinned as he threw Rogue onto the bed farthest from the door.

Rogue's body bounced a couple of times before sinking into the plush comforter. Her face was buried in a gigantic pillow. She lay unmoving for a few seconds before murmuring something into the pillow.

Remy, hanging up his coat, turned his head toward her. "What dat?"

Slapping her hands on either side of her head, she pushed herself up onto all fours. She peeked at Remy through a curtain of tangled hair. "Ah said this don' smell lahke a Motel 6."

Remy smiled, crossing the room to sit on the opposite bed, facing her. "T'ought you'd appreciate some matchin' upholstery f'once." He flicked the switch on the lamp on the wall between them.

Rogue grinned sloppily, blinking at the sudden brightness. "Ain'tcha just a reg'lar South'n Gentlem'n." She pointed a wavering, gloved finger roughly in Remy's direction. "If'n Ah didn' know any bettah, Ah'd think ya's be tryin' ta seduce me! HAH!" She rolled onto her back, arms splayed out from her body. "That's funny! Try'n seduce meh. Good luck with _that_, buddo." She snorted, then giggled to herself.

Remy shook his head. Perhaps he should have been a bit more diligent in regulating his partner's alcoholic intake. He just enjoyed the way she smiled so uninhibited, truly relaxed for the first time since he first saw her walking stiffly and self-consciously through that crowded mall. He wanted to keep her smiling like that. But watching the fully inebriated girl across from him, he started worrying that he allowed her to cross the line from everything's-great-laugh-at-the-world-happily-hammered into reality-sinking-in-wallow-in-pain-depressively-smashed. He hoped she passed out before that happened, because he didn't know her well enough to be able to comfort her and his usual way of preoccupying women into forgetting their name was off the table. As long as she didn't start crying…

_Sniff._

_Oh, co faire? _ Remy cursed to the ceiling. Looking over to the girl, he saw her curled up in the fetal position, facing away from him. He stood, and after a brief moment of hesitation, sat beside her on her bed. He raised his hand and gently rubbed her back. "Shh, _ma fille_, s'alright."

Rogue grumbled something into the sleeves of her coat.

"Come on, _beb_, it's not that bad." He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Y'got no reason t'be upset."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Rogue sprang off the other side of the bed, glaring at him. "Ya don't know _shit!"_ she yelled at him. "Don't fucking tell me Ah got no reason ta be upset! You dunno a damned thang!"

"Easy, _chere_, I didn' mean t—"

"Oh, stuff it! Ah know what y'where gonna say. Oh, Rogue! Silly, silly Rogue! So dramatic and excitable! She really doesn't appreciate how good she has it! She should just stop moping' and be thankful! Her powahs aren't _that bad!_"

"Rogue, I—"

"SHUT IT! I don't wanna hear it. Ya just don't understand. This isn't just _inconvenient_, Gambit. Mah life ain't just _a little debilitatin'. _ It's fuckin' HELL!"

Rogue began pacing back and forth, pulling at her hair. Remy did not move from his spot on the bed. He simply watched her with his glowing eyes. _Well, _that _sobered her up a little. _

"People want me t'suck it up and act like a normal person," she continued to rant, "well, which person do they want? A traumatized war vet who don't remember the majority of his past? A prejudiced megalomaniac haunted by memories of a death camp? A feral rapist and murderer who gets off by licking the blood offa his fingers? Or we can just stick to the horny teenaged boys who don't pay attention to anythin' past the next ballgame. What'll it be?" She choked out the last part as Remy rounded the bed and grabbed her arms, forcing her to face him.

"Rogue, _cherie_, _calme-toi." _He spoke softly, pulling her into his arms. "Y'right. I don' know de first t'ing about how much dis hurts ya." He bent his head down, trying to catch Rogue's eyes. "But mebbe y'ain't as alone as y't'ink, _hein_? Maybe dere's some of us out dere who wanna help ya? Who might wanna know…" He trailed off, looking into her bloodshot eyes, sparkling with tears.

Rogue swallowed, looking into those calm, beautiful, red eyes. "You wanna know what it's like?" she began softly, almost a whisper. "You wanna hear what it's like to never feel the touch of another person's skin against your own without the pain of sucking out their life force—their very soul?"

Remy fell back onto the bed as Rogue pushed away from him. He kept his hands in his lap as he watched Rogue take an angry breath and square her shoulders.

"You wanna know what it's like to cover every inch of mah skin every hour of every day to make sure no one accidentally brushes up against me? Well, it sucks! It's hot and sweaty and itchy." She yanked off her coat and threw it at Remy. "It's annoyin' ta have ta take vitamin D supplements because Ah don't get enough sunlight and stay in mah room when everyone else goes to play in the pool!" She ripped off the over-shirt covering her green sundress. It followed the coat. "It's embarrassin' to struggle turnin' the pages of a book or ask someone to open a coke can fer me!" She ripped off each glove and flung them one at a time at Remy's head. "I wanna touch screen smartphone, goddammit!"

Remy sighed as he pulled the clothing off of his head. He set them beside him and calmly let Rogue continue.

"It's _noisy! _Ah don't get a moment of silence without the psyches screamin' at me how terrible Ah am or tryin' ta interrupt me while Ah'm talkin' to other people! Ah can't tell ya how many times Ah've responded to the wrong voice or started talkin' to no one in the middle of a crowded room."

Remy had to force himself from dropping his eyes as the weight of Rogue's glare bore into him. She wasn't moving now, just standing in front of him with her pale hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"And you wanna _know_ why Ah don' eat? It's because Kitty's a vegetarian and David's lactose intolerant. Eric is kosher, Ororo won't eat anythin' not organic and Logan's never willingly touched a vegetable in his life!" She started to shake, but her voice remained strong and sharp. "Anytime Ah disrobe anywhere near a mirror, Ah can't ignore the catcalls and the cruel insults and the lewd commentary on every inch of mah body and Ah think maybe, _just maybe,_ if Ah can stop fueling mah body, maybe Ah can starve them out!"

Their eyes were still locked, but Remy felt his hands clench into fists on the bed. He fought every instinct to move toward her.

"But no." Rogue shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "No, they are stronger than that. They last longer than mah body does. When mah stomach starts crampin' so bad Ah can't even see straight or if Ah pass out from standin' too quickly, the voices are still waitin' for me on the other side, excited to have me trapped in mah head." She shoved her arms out in front of her, showing her mutilated forearms. "_This_ is the only thing that keeps them at bay. The only thing that calms me enough to push the voices back. The only thing that appeases them. And Ah'd gladly take physical pain any day over the torture Ah have ta live through in mah mind."

She stuttered to a stop and let a single sob escape her lips, causing her whole chest to heave. Remy stood but refrained from approaching her when she backed away from him, shaking her head and crossing her bare arms in front of her, hugging herself protectively.

"It's scary to wake up every mornin' and have ta remember which memories are mine. What mah name is. Who Ah am. Remember that the nightmares aren't mah own. NO!" she screamed as Remy took a step forward.

"_Chere, _it's alright. Let m'help you."

Rogue laughed disturbingly. "Help me," she repeated, a cruel, self-deprecating smile twisting her lips. "No one can help me. Especially not _you_. Not when Ah have a piece of yah in mah head tellin' me how much yah wish Ah didn't have this mutation at all. How much yah wish you could _touch me._"

She stepped toward him with an intensity Remy did not expect and he found himself backing up until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

"How can ya help me when Ah can feel your desire runnin' through mah body." Her voice lowered and she raised her hands to run up the front of Remy's dress shirt, splaying her hands on his chest. "When Ah know all the things you do ta me when you fantasize at night."

Remy found himself being pushed onto the bed, his back hitting the soft comforter as soft hands continued to press into his chest. He held his breath as Rogue straddled his hips and looked down at him, almost curiously.

Her words came out in a dangerous whisper. "Would you still wanna help me if you found out that ah know your secrets? That Ah know what frightens you and what," she lowered her body onto his and brought her face inches from his own, "_turns you on?"_

Remy couldn't help but gasp as she dug her fingernails into his pectorals. It was an erogenous zone that he didn't tell many people about.

Her nails scrapped downward, fingers catching his nipples through the fabric. A strong squeeze sent his back into an arch, pressing his chest into Rogue's hands.

"Ah know what drives you crazy." She traced her hands down his arms and grabbed his gloved hands. "You're favorite place to touch a woman." She guided his hands up her thighs, onto her hips, and continuing up the curve of her waist. They stopped on the outer edges of her breasts. His finger splayed across her ribs; his thumbs grazed the bottom swell of her chest.

She lowered her lips past his own to whisper in his ear, "would you still wanna help me if you knew you'd never have a chance to do what Ah want ya to do with mah body?"

Remy growled deep in his throat.

Quicker than Rogue could blink, Remy had her pushed off the bed and up against the wall. His body pressed into hers, his hands holding her wrists above her head. As Rogue frowned in confusion, Remy spoke into her ear, low and dangerous.

"Oh, _chere_, I t'ink y'underestimate me."

He pushed his knee between her thighs and rocked upward, pressing against Rogue's pelvis. She gasped loudly and arched her neck. Meeting her wide eyes, he continued, "Dere's plenty I can do t'ya wit'out touchin' yo skin." He released her hands and wrapped the gloved fingers of his left hand gently around her neck, his thumb tracing her trachea. His other hand moved to cup the side of her jaw, the pads of his fingers wrapping around to cradle the base of her head, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

Her breathing was shallow and rapid as he lowered his face to hers and breathed in her scent. He could hear the whimper in the back of her throat.

The whimper turned into a yelp as he roughly yanked her from the wall and threw her onto the bed. His body slammed into hers a second later.

"See, _Chere,_" Remy gripped a handful of Rogue's hair and gently yet firmly pulled.

Rogue moaned as her head was forced back.

"Dere's not'in' I wan' dat yo' powers can stop m'from gettin." Remy slid his body down hers, eliciting another moan. One hand still in her hair, the other wrapped around her neck, He brought his lips to the side of her breast, where she had placed his hands only minutes before. He nuzzled his face there briefly before opening his mouth, bringing it down onto the thin fabric, biting down hard.

A sort of strangled, hiccoughy groan came from Rogue as she arched her back and flung her hands to the back of Remy's head, taking fistfuls of his hair and pressing him closer.

He released her and slowly lifted his body away from hers. He brought his hands up to gently pull hers out of his hair.

Rogue whimpered and struggled to wrap her arms back around him, but Remy firmly held them to the bed.

Exhaling a short breath through his nose, he quirked one side of his mouth in a sardonic smile. "One o' des days, y'may even wanna give it t'me sober."

With that, Remy stood, grabbed his coat, and swiftly exited the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The tiny dancers pranced joyfully as snowflakes settled around their feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched them. It made him smile. Rearranging the surgical tools on the tray, he reached over and shook the snow globe again, causing the snow flurries to dance around the ballerinas once more. Sighing, he stuck the earbuds back into his ears and pressed play on his iPod.

_Your love is like a tidal wave, spinning over my head  
Drownin' me in your promises, better left unsaid_

Bobbing his head and rocking on the heels of his feet, he turned back to the test subject. "Oh!" he murmured when he realized the test subject had started to awaken and was beginning to struggle weakly at the restraints that held its body to the sterile bed.

_You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy  
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be_

He clucked his tongue and picked up a syringe filled with a special blend of anesthesia. He gently grabbed the subject's arm with his pasty, corpse-like fingers and slid the needle deftly into the subject's median cubical vein at the crook of the elbow. The subject stilled.

_You're a heartbreaker  
Dream maker, love taker  
Don't you mess around with me!_

He then grabbed a scalpel and, still bouncing to the melody, plunged it deep into the subject's chest.

_You're a heartbreaker  
Dream maker, love taker  
Don't you mess around - no no no!_

The instrumental section took the place of Pat's crooning voice. He spun in a circle, letting his white lab coat swirl around him. Taking a surgical saw from the tray, he turned back to the subject and got back to work.

_Your love has set my soul on fire, burnin' out of control  
You taught me the ways of desire, now it's takin' it's toll_

His butt swung side to side with the strong down beats. "Bum, Bum, Bum!"

_You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy  
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be _

He used his thin skeletal fingers to peel back the skin and pectoral muscles of the test subject, nudging the detached ribs out of the way. With a soft smile, he looked down into the chest cavity and watched the human heart beat in time to the music.

_You're a heartbreaker  
Dream maker, love taker  
Don't you mess around with me!  
You're a heartbreaker  
Dream maker, love taker  
Don't you mess around - no no –_

"Sinister!"

"WHAT!"

The woman standing in the doorway did not react to his outburst, only quirking an eyebrow as he turned around with an iPod in one bloody hand and a newly dissected heart in the other.

"I mean… What _a pleasure_ it is to see you again, dear Tessa!" He lowered his arms and grinned a mouthful of sharp, yellowed teeth.

Tessa eyed the scientist's current project without expression before stepping forward. Her dark blue power suit clashed against the cold metallic of the walls. She held out a thick manila envelope with a manicured hand.

He took it gently, smearing blood across the crisp paper.

"You'll find everything you requested in there, including police reports." Tessa paused. " I do hope your current little game finds speedier results, Dr. Essex. The Hellfire Club is happy to assist with our affiliates, but we cannot continue to fund projects that are not directly beneficial to our goals."

"Oh, dear Tessa," he smiled fondly down at the perfectly coiffed, yet emotionless woman, "do not fret. This information will aid a great deal in obtaining the most important ingredient for my research. I promise, you will be very pleased once I get my hands on him."

Tessa offered him a disinterested "mmm-hmmm" before turning on her heels and leaving him alone in the room.

Humming under his breath, he turned back to his test subject, which had since turned cold and tinged with blue.

"Don't you mess around, no, no, no!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her head hurt. Her tongue felt like paper and the taste in her mouth was foul. She attempted to flip over onto her back, but her limbs felt like lead. The beam of sunlight hitting her face burned her bloodshot eyes, causing her to bury her head deeper into the pillow.

She was never touching bourbon again.

After a few minutes of groaning and cursing, Rogue rolled over to stare at the ceiling. "Mah life hurts," she informed the white stucco.

She was just attempting to roll gingerly off of the bed when a sharp knock startled her, causing her to slip on the bed covers and land ass first on the carpet.

"Owww..." She decided it was too much trouble to move from the floor, so she didn't.

A moment later, the knocking resumed, followed with a clear, way-too-chipper voice, "room service!"

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," Rogue grumbled as she stumbled to her feet. Looking around, she noticed she was alone in the spacious room.

There was another knock, to which Rogue responded with a less than polite, "hold ya damn horses! Crimeny!"

She eventually hobbled over to the door, clumsily fiddled with the locks, and yanked it open. A young man with a false smile greeted her with a large catering tray. Rogue waved him in, rubbing her face and yawning. She mumbled something that passed for a thank you as the man passed her on his way out.

It was either the smell of coffee or fried awesomeness that woke her up enough to sit at the desk in front of the breakfast tray. She frowned when she went to take off her glove and found that she was wearing nothing but her sundress. _Curiouser and curiouser, _she thought. _Well, fiddle dee dee, I'll think about that when the hangover passes. _

Lifting the lid, she found a large plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns- all coated in a healthy (such as it is) layer of butter and grease. Next to the plate was a glass full of orange juice and next to that was a bowl of grits. Honest to god grits. Rogue grabbed the bowl eagerly and plopped in a large glob of butter before joyfully going to town.

About the time she scraped the last of the grits from the bottom of the bowl, the door opened and Remy entered wearing his typical sunglasses and duster. He smirked when he saw her lounging on the sizable chair pulled up to the desk. "Well, I's be a monkey's _oncle_. She's eatin' of her own free will!"

Rogue's mouth was too full to glare affectively, so she waved the bowl around and grinned as wide as she could. "Grits!"

Remy winced. "Yeah, I c'n see dat, _chere. _ Here." He tossed a bottle of Advil toward her. "t'ought y'might want some o'dat."

Rogue caught it deftly and after swallowing, said, "Oh, Ah love you!"

"If I had a nickel, _ma cherie." _ Remy chuckled as he snagged a sausage from the plate on his way to his bed.

Rogue ignored the quip, deciding instead to occupy her time popping four pills and gulping down half a glass of orange juice. She watched as Remy tossed two empty duffle bags onto the bed and began transferring his stolen belongings into one. "So," Rogue began awkwardly. "This sure don't smell like a Motel 6."

Remy paused for a brief second, staring down into his bag before tilting his head to peer at her behind his bangs. "Don't remember much a' last night, do ya?" He smirked.

"Yeah… not a lick." Rogue laughed awkwardly. "How much of a fool did Ah make myself?"

"Only a marginal amount."

"Oh. Good."

"Don' worry, _chere,"_ Remy reassured, watching her blush, "you's cute when y' bumblin' around like _un fou." _

Rogue threw a banana at his head, which he caught and stuffed in his coat. "T'anks!"

After a minute of silence, Remy turned to her again. "Rogue…" he began hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

He looked at her raised eyebrow and playful smile. Shaking his head, he replied, "nut'in."

Rogue scrunched her eyebrows at his atypically serious expression.

Then, quick as lightning, his boyish grin was back and he winked. "Now get y'shit. We behind schedule."

"We have a schedule?" Rogue asked as she rose from the chair and grabbed the second duffle.

"Too much world t'see and not enough life t'see it in."

Rogue grinned as she packed.

A quick shower and a few rounds of teasing banter later, Rogue was standing at the door with the duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She wore a black midriff tank top underneath a green mesh shirt. Black leather gloves, a studded belt and faded jeans completed the ensemble.

Remy opened the door and bowed, hand raised to present the hallway. "After you, _ma'amselle."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So… Over the years, I've become more and more obsessed with X-men: Evolution. While this is technically supposed to be in the Movieverse, I'm shamelessly evolving the characters into their evo personalities. Kitty was completely by accident – I wrote her before being introduced to Ellen Page's interpretation. All that being said, the situations and past events of the movieverse through X2 still apply.

I'm really happy to continue this fic. It's been on the back of my mind since I abandoned it years ago, and my endearment to it has never faded. With life being much kinder to me now, I feel it is time to revisit it. I HAD a really complicated outline for the plot… which I've since forgotten a huge part of… so let's see how we do tying all the pieces together! It'll be an adventure for all of us. If y'all have any scene ideas or suggestions, constructive criticisms, I'm always appreciative.

Somewhere in this chapter is a reference to Alice in Wonderland and Gone with The Wind. A box of Kuddos to those who recognized them.

That's all for now, folks!


	13. I'm Miss Autonomy Miss Nothing

**A/N: **The songs in this chapter are all from The Pretty Reckless. Miss Nothing and Going Down. As always, I suggest looking up the songs on youtube(or whatever) to listen to while reading the scenes. :)

**Miss Autonomy; Miss Nowhere **

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**No tanktops on men, No sanduls or bear feet, No faggs, No m-**

Half the sign ripped off the window, leaving three parallel slashes running through it.

Wolverine exited the bar with a fierce scowl. "Assholes."

Storm stood calmly on the pavement, waiting for him. "No luck?" she asked.

Wolverine grunted. "Oh, they were there alright. Drank up a storm, by the looks of it. Their scent is all over this stinkin' block. I don't get it."

Storm gracefully tilted her head as she looked at Wolverine. "You're beginning to suspect that perhaps she is not as unwilling as we have assumed."

He shook his head. "She ain't that stupid."

"She _has_ been acting out rather noticeably, Logan. Perhaps she found herself in a situation that allowed her some freedom and she decided to take it."

"Stockholme Syndrome." Cyclops stated grimly as he approached them, having exited a music store half a block down. The younger X Men were on his heels. "Or maybe blackmail."

Wolverine nodded. "Only explanation I can see."

Storm sighed as she looked between the two headstrong men. The workings and motivations of an 18-year-old girl's mind was completely beyond their comprehension.

"So what now?" asked Shadowcat from behind Cyclops' elbow.

"Keep askin' around, try to pick up their scent again. If he made her drink as much as I think he did, they would have holed up someplace close…." He trailed off as a Red Ferrari zoomed past them on the street. His head, along with Cyclops' and Iceman's, turned to follow the car as it raced down the street and out of sight. They continued to stare in that direction, the previous conversation momentarily forgotten.

"Oh, Goddess, help me." Storm rolled her eyes as she spun on the balls of her feet and walked down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I wan' hear y'say it."

"Ah'm not sayin' it."

"Come on, _Chere_, I know y'wanna. It'll feel good."

"You're a creep."

"An' you' a fibber. I wan' hear de words."

"Leave me alone."

"I will once y'admit it."

Rogue pressed down on the accelerator in frustration. The engine purred. Rogue huffed.

"….Ok. You're right. The car's _fiiine."_

Remy grinned at her from the passenger seat. "Remy told y'so, _ma belle._"

"Yeah, well _Remy_ can shut his big, fat trap and let me drive." To signal the end of the discussion, Rogue reached over and popped in a CD of The Pretty Reckless.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The old woman clutched at the handrail as she slowly guided her worn shoes down the cement steps. The stiffness in her legs caused each descending step to reverberate painfully up her body. Having at last reached the pavement of the small square marking the edge of Central Park, she raised her withered hands to straighten her moth-eaten shawl and pat down her matted hair. She shuffled over to an empty bench pulled up to a stone table.

Shiny metallic chess pieces sat regally upon the checkered tabletop. Hacking deeply in her throat, the old woman settled her grungy, overstuffed bags around her, then reached over and forwarded a pawn to e4.

"You are in fine spirits today, my dear," the man across from her folded his news paper and placed it on the edge of the table. His silver hair rustled lightly in the breeze.

"Xavier upgraded his security." The woman's voice was raspy and tinged with annoyance. "I was unable to tap into their communications system."

The man hummed before moving his pawn to e5. "I am not overly concerned about Charles's movements at the moment. Things have been quiet in Washington."

"No." White pawn to f4. "Something has got the them buzzing around. There have been multiple trips taken out of state in the Blackbird. Southbound. Most recently, they additionally deployed the younger team via motor vehicle, assumedly to join the alpha group."

"Ah." The man smiled faintly. "My lovely Raven, you have always been so delightfully aggressive." He moved his own pawn forward diagonally to capture the white pawn. "Very well. Perhaps we should find out what has gotten the X Men so excited during their holiday season."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Duh Nuh! Duh Nuh!"

Rogue swung her arm in a large arch as she wailed on the air guitar. The cord of her headphones whipped around her as she bounced and twisted and kicked atop a picnic table.

"_Ah'm Miss Autonomy, Miss Nowhere, Ah'm at the bottom of me!"_

She kicked a half-empty coke can off the table with her heavy combat boot.

"_Miss Androgyny, Miss Don't Care, what Ah've done to me…"_

She ignored Remy exiting the small service plaza and making his way languidly toward the grassy picnic area.

"_Ah'm misused, Like Ah wanted to, be not you're slave…."_

Remy smirked and slid his glasses down his nose to stare up at her as he leaned against the table and sipped his Starbucks coffee.

"Misg_uided, high-minded, Ah'm missin' the train!"_

"_Ma cherie, _ I'm tickled pink y'eatin' again, _mais, _I t'ink it's time t'cut down on de sugar some, _oui?_ _Chere?_"

Rogue continued to ignore him as she danced on the table, breathlessly belting out the lyrics.

"Anyone ever tell ya dat y'dance like Molly Ringwald in De Breakfast Club?"

Rogue flipped him off while spinning in a circle on the balls of her feet.

"…_As Ah watch you disappear into the ground, mah one mistake was that Ah never let yah down_…"

"We's 'bout fifty minutes away from de Mizzipi Border…"

Rogue took a running leap and handspringed over Remy's head, using his shoulders to vault off from. When she landed in a soft crouch in front of the stumbling Cajun, she had his coffee in her hand. Half a second later, she was dancing her way to the Ferrari, a diskman in one hand and a promise of caffeine overload in the other.

"…_So Ah'll waste mah time, and Ah'll burn mah mind, Ah'm Miss Nothing…"_

"I'm gon' die, ain'I?"

"…_Ah'm Miss Everything!"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kitty snapped her strawberry bubble gum in irritation. She'd been sitting in the back of the hummer for fifteen minutes, picking at her nails and waiting for the adults to finish yelling at the poor kid at the front desk of the Sheraton. Through the wide glass doors, she could just make out Cyclops gesture wildly and Wolverine pace back and forth like a rabid animal. She sighed.

"Kill, boff, marry," Iceman's voice cut through the tense silence in the vehicle, "Selena Kyle, Harley Quinn, Pamela Isley."

"Oh man, zat's a tough vone," Colossus answered, deep in thought. "On ze one hand, Poison Ivy is a redhead. But she's poisonous and bossy, so she probably von't be much fun in bed or in marriage. Harley is rather… dedicated…"

"But crazy as fuck," Bobby interjected.

"_Da." _Piotr agreed. He squinted his eyes in thought. "Are ve talking about Michelle Pfeiffer's Catwoman?"

"Sure."

"Zen boff her. No question!"

"Oh, Jeeze!" Kitty rolled her eyes and phased out of the car. She stomped her way through the sliding doors into the hotel and stopped beside Storm who was leaning against the service desk, rubbing her temples with both hands.

Behind her, Wolverine snapped his phone shut. "Another sighting, about thirty miles west of Jackson, Tennessee."

Cyclops stopped mid-rant, clenched his teeth, then pointed threateningly at the employee behind the desk. "If I had five minutes to spare, I'd be talking to your manager and having your job, you thankless –"

Storm grabbed Cyclops' outstretched arm and guided him toward the exit. "Thank you for your help. I hope you have a pleasant day," she offered the employee in the most soothing voice she could manage. Turning back to the cluster of frustrated X Men, she sighed. "At least they seem to be traveling in a steady southwestern direction."

Kitty scrunched up her eyebrows as she followed her teachers into the pleasant southern weather. She was intentionally procrastinating in studying for her upcoming geography exam, but… "Hey, um, isn't that like right by the Mississippi border?"

The adults stopped and looked back at her.

"Well, you know…like… Rogue's from Mississippi, right? I mean, maybe they're, like, taking her back home?" The words were spilling out of her mouth the second they popped into her brain, but as the sentences formed together, she had to admit it made a lot of sense. Rogue had been griping about the northern climate and shitty food for months. It was no secret how much she missed her hometown and desperately clung to her southern roots. Kitty saw Rogue clam up when the other students started talking about their past lives and old friends. She'd notice how Rogue would discretely excuse herself to indulge in a private crying spell when the girls would get together and gossip about crushes and first kisses. It was common knowledge how Rogue first got her powers, but Kitty hadn't really thought about how _sucky_ it must have been for Rogue to have her first kiss blow up in her face like that. Thinking about it now, were she in the same position, she'd want to go check up on the guy…

"Of course!" Cyclops stared at her like she had grown a second head. "That's why we didn't receive a ransom note at the Institute. Of course, he's taking her back home to set up the ransom with her foster parents..."

"Oh, um, I didn't really mean it like—"

"No. I don't think anyone would pass up a chance to extort someone as filthy rich as Chuck if the real reason was money. Her folks must have sent this punk to bring her back to Caldecott to pay for what she did."

"Could be the whole town's in on it…" Cyclops added.

Kitty groaned as the two men continued building onto their conspiracy theories. Storm gave her a sympathetic look.

"Let's ditch the car. We'll get there faster if we all take the Blackbird."

"Ok, let's not get _too_ drastic…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Kill boff marry: Zatanna, Starfire, Supergirl._

_Bobby, Supergirl is an abomination to comics everywhere! She's not a real character – they decided to take Superman and add boobs!_

_John, you have her pinup on the bathroom door, you hypocrite!_

_Well, YEAH, she's still hot… but I don't consider her a legitimate superhero. _

_Fine, Piotr, what about you, man?_

_Supergirl iz very cute. I zink I'd marry her. Boff Zatanna – chicks in tuxedos – zat's all I have to say…_

_So, what, you'd _kill_ Starfire? She's like…. Epic…_

_She is also an alien, moy droog. I don't zink I'd feel comfortable screwing an alien no matter how fit she is. I mean, vhat if zere are hidden tentacles or somezing?_

_Oh… yeah…. That's a good point…._

_I'd kill all three of them._

_Yeah, Creed, we know you would…_

Rogue rolled her eyes and shifted into a more comfortable position. Her boots were shoved up against the windshield, her calves resting on the glovebox. With the seat pushed back all the way and the top down on the Farrarri, she could lay back and watch the clouds form various farm animals above her.

Currently, the samarai cow was battling a disproportionately large ninja chicken. She squinted as something small and dark slowly flew through the eye of the cow, leaving a thin streak of water vapor sticking out of his cornea.

She sighed and yanked her seat upright. They'd turned south onto I-55 about a half an hour ago, and Rogue was getting antsy. She had expected a sort of calm to wash over her when she crossed into her home territory, but instead, she found she couldn't stop fidgeting.

She picked up the newly-swiped atlas and studied the topographic dips of North Dakota for a about fifteen minutes before throwing it in the backseat and resigned herself to picking at the broken strands of denim stretched over her kneecap. Forty-five minutes and a solftball-sized hole later, she huffed and twisted the volume knob on the radio, ignoring Remy's wince.

_Hey there, Father  
I don't wanna bother you  
But I've got a sin to confess  
I'm just sixteen if you know what I mean  
Do you mind if I take off my dress? _

She watched the familiar landscape pass by her in a blur. She tried to close her eyes, but found herself peeking every few seconds, searching for the exit signs and mile markers she knew were approaching.

_Don't know where to start  
Let me get to the good parts  
Might wanna cross up your legs  
I've got envy, I've got greed, anything that you need  
And I'm not above having to beg_

There it was. Exit 156 toward Lexington. A straight shot down MS-12, past the CA Moore Airport, left at Tchula and keep going until you hit the lake. Should she? Shouldn't she? She bit her lip and frowned. 

There was this boy who tore my heart in two  
I had to lay him eight feet underground

Fuck. Remy was about to pass the exit. Before she even realized what she was doing, Rogue shot out her hand and yanked hard on the steering wheel, causing the car to careen right, through two lanes of angry traffic. They hit the edge of the embankment before skidding recklessly onto the exit ramp.

Remy was yelling. He smacked her hand and threw it back onto her side of the vehicle. She knew he was staring at her, expecting her to answer him, but she couldn't seem to pay attention to anything but the signs pointing them toward Caldecott.

_All I need is someone to save me  
Cause I am goin' down  
And what I need is someone to save me  
Cause I am goin' down, all the way down_

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The county hospital was small, appropriate for a population of 15,000, yet seemed proficient and updated. Remy leaned against the car door and watched Rogue out of the corner of his eye.

She was hugging her coat tightly against herself, even though the weather was seasonably warm. Her eyes were haunted as she stared up at the red-brick building. She stood that way, unmoved for the better part of five minutes, but Remy let her take her time.

The chapel from across the street began clanging its bell. Five o' clock. Remy watched the stain glass windows glitter as the last golden rays of twilight stretched across the quaint town.

The chime must have woken Rogue from her reverie, for she shook her head and blew out a big puff of air. Raising her chin, she marched without preamble toward the revolving doors of the hospital.

Remy followed silently.

Surprisingly, when Rogue entered the sterile waiting area, she bypassed the visitor's desk and walked swiftly and determinedly toward the elevators. Remy had to rush to slip in beside her before the doors slid shut. He stole a peek at his curious partner in crime. Her arms were still wrapped around herself as though she feared her clothes would slip right off her if she loosened her arms. She didn't look up to return his glance; her eyes stayed persistently glued to her feet.

The doors opened when they reached the third floor. Remy followed behind Rogue as she shuffled past the nurses station, keeping her face away from any approaching orderlies, as if to make sure no one would recognize her. Aleft turn. A right. Ambling through the confusing maze of off-white corridors was actually kind of soothing.

At the end of an isolated hallway, Rogue stopped so suddenly, Remy found himself rocking onto the balls of his feet to keep from running into her. She was frozen in front of door that stood halfway open, enough to reveal to Remy a typical hospital room. The only movement within came from the steadily blinking and beeping machines that surrounded a lone, occupied bed.

With a shaking hand, Rogue pushed the door open and slowly entered the room. Remy watched as she passed the portable table filled with hallmark cards and vases of fresh flowers. She repositioned an obnoxiously pink balloon with a smiling duck wearing a stethoscope so she could approach the bed. Uncomfortable, Remy kept his distance, opting to lean against the inside wall near the door.

The gaunt figure in the bed couldn't have been more than 18. Sandy blond hair swept over his pale forehead. His eyelids rested peacefully; there was no sign of stress or tension on his face at all. The high cheekbones and strong jaw hinted at a young man who could cause any girl to swoon with only a smile. The boy was not smiling now. His lax jaw was pulled open by ugly, plastic intubation, the lips splayed awkwardly. A thin feeding tube was taped heavily to his nostril. It made the what-would-be pleasant scene wholly garish and off-putting.

Rogue stared down at the boy with naked grief written on her face. She reached her gloved hand to caress his cheek, but stopped at the last moment, fingers less than an inch away from his pasty flesh. After a deep sigh, she retracted her hand. "Ah told everyone at the Institute that the first boy Ah ever kissed ended up in a coma for three weeks."

It took a moment for Remy to realize she wasn't talking to the unconscious boy in front of her. His eyes traced the tense frown between her eyebrows - the thick lashes that batted away any hint of moisture, the curve of her nose - and stayed on her down-turned lips as she continued speaking.

"Ah lied. The only boy Ah've ever kissed is still laying in a coma three years later."

Remy shifted, uncomfortable. Something about the way she looked down at the young boy, so tender and hesitant, made him feel… annoyed.

"He was always so…" she spit the word out, "_nice._ This stupid good ol' boy smile that had all the teachers love him and all the guys wanna be around him and the girls..." She shook her head softly and smiled. "He smiled at everyone. The cheerleaders, the jocks, the drama dorks, the geek squad… the lonely girls sitting alone under trees readin' Bronte. We grew up together. He taught me how to fish and play baseball, Ah taught him how to climb trees and sneak outta the house after curfew. Cody and Mar…Cody and me. We were inseparable up until puberty started creepin' in and it suddenly was too awkward to jump into the lake in only our skivvies. The pretty girls started comin' in, demandin' his attention. The push for football scholarships. Somehow he still always made time for me, though. A few minutes here or there between classes, just to make sure Ah was doin' ok. He'd stop by on the weekends to take me out on a picnic." She broke from her reverie to give Remy an amused look. "Ya know those people who always seem to have time to spend on everything and everyone when you can't even seem to find time to breathe without givin' up your smoking break?" Her eyes traveled back to the bed. "Drove me _nuts._

"One day, he stopped by outta the blue. It was the tail end of summer vacation. Ah was sixteen. Ah was so damn excited to see him, Ah didn't care how stupid Ah sounded as Ah dragged him to my room and showed him my grand plan to escape this godforsaken town. Ah showed him all the maps Ah had highlighted and tacked up, takin' him through all the places Ah was gonna visit… After gabbin' mah mouth off for who-knows-how long, he was just sittin' on the bed starin' at me, smilin' that _stupid_ smile of his."

Remy stayed silent as she broke off into silence, no doubt continuing the story in her head. Her hands gripped into a tight fist and for a second Remy thought she was going to slug the comatose boy. Dropping his eyes, he decided to give the girl a little privacy. He slipped into the hallway and resumed leaning against the wall, pulling out a deck of cards to keep his mind occupied.

About five minutes later, his attention was pulled from his card flourishes. Down one of the long corridors, there seemed to be a commotion involving a group wearing eccentric black uniforms, led by a very angry, very hairy man and a rather unrelenting nurse. Finishing his complicated sybil cut, Remy put away his cards and slipped back into the private room.

Rogue was clenching the thin hospital blanket that covered Cody's lower body in both fists. Her head was bowed and her hair draped around her face. It didn't hide the fact that she had obviously been crying.

Remy felt like an asshole interrupting such a tender scene. "Hey, uh, _Chere?_ Don' mean t'butt in, but I t'ink y'friends are arrivin'."

She looked up sharply, the wet streaks down her face forgotten. She rushed to the door and peeked out. A small squeak escaped the back of her throat that Remy wished there was time to make fun of her for. "We gotta get outta here, Remy."

"Pas de probleme, _chere." _ Remy grabbed Rogue's arms and yanked her out of the room, pulling her down an adjacent hallway so quickly, Rogue had difficulty staying on her feet. Unfortunately, it was not so fast that Wolverine didn't catch the movement, causing him to push past the head nurse, yelling, "STRIPES!" in his gruff yet proficiently projecting voice.

Zipping through the hallways, zig zagging enough to make Rouge nauseated, the pair heard the roar echo down the corridor. "Elevator, Elevator, Elevator!" She cried as they skidded onto the landing. Pushing the down button repeatedly, she leaned against the wall and panted. "There's no point in tryin' to hide; he can follow our scents."

"Convenient," Remy commented dryly.

Fortunately, the elevator dinged soon after and they scrambled in, pounding frantically on the panel of buttons.

Leaning back, Rogue groaned. "Ahh man, I'm _so_ not ready for my vacation to be over."

"Don't worry, _ chere_, de fun's just gettin' started. Y'were wrong about one t'ing, dough."

"Yeah, what's that?"

He leaned close into her with a wicked grin, one hand leaning on the wall behind her. "Dat boy wasn't de only guy you ever kissed."

Rogue gulped. She was saved from having to form a response as the elevator doors closed right as Logan leapt around the corner. The tips of his claws punctured the metal door and slid up with a screeching tear as the elevator descended.

XXXXXXXX

Logan pounded his fist against the metal door and growled. The rest of the X Men ran up to meet him and skidded to a halt. "Popsicle, Tin Can, take the stairs. Storm, Cyclops, cover the second elevator. Elf, guard the emergency exits. Half-Pint," he gripped the end of Kitty's thick ponytail, "sink me."

Kitty bobbed her head and phased, dropping to the first floor lobby at a sickening speed.

Logan faced the elevators and squared his shoulders. And waited.

And waited.

Logan cursed. "They got off on another floor." He grabbed Kitty's waist. "Go find them." He threw her upward toward the ceiling.

Kitty screeched and barely phased in time as she was vaulted through the tiles of the second floor. Landing lightly on her feet, she ran off in a random direction.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The pair held hands as they raced down a maze of hallways. They slammed open the door leading to the stairwell and only got as far as the first landing before hearing voices and the pounding of heavy feet above them. They about faced and exited the stairwell. More winding hallways, and they reached an emergency exit.

Remy stopped Rogue from pushing open the door. He peeked through the thin, grated window and blinked. "Um… Don' suppose y'little entourage includes a scary lookin' blue demon t'ing with pointy teet', _hein?"_

"Shit." Rogue pulled him away from the exit.

More winding hallways. Turning a sharp corner, Rogue slammed into someone. "Oh, sor—shit."

Kitty stared at her with wide eyes and open mouth. "Rogue?" She looked past Rogue as Remy caught up. "Holy Studdmuffin, Batman!" She took a brief moment to ogle before snapping out of it. "Rogue! We've been looking all over for you! Are you okay?"

"Ah'm fine. Kitty, Ah'm sorry, Ah just…" She looked at her teammate, her roommate, her…dare she think it… friend and saw the genuine worry in her childlike face. "God, Kitty, Ah didn't want to freak everyone out, Ah just…. Ah can't go home yet. Ah can't," She pleaded. She attempted a pathetic expression, but she had never been very good at the innocent look.

Kitty flicked her eyes back to the tall, chiseled man over Rogue's shoulder. "Oh, no, I like _totally_ understand! Come on!" She grabbed Rogue's hand and yanked her forward, Remy following behind them. More winding hallways. Rogue bumped into Kitty when she stopped abruptly. There was yelling from somewhere in front of them.

"Ah think security caught up with Logan."

"Oh poo! We gotta get you guys out of here!" Kitty took a quick peek through the wall, looking out over the parking lot. Finding an industrial-sized trashbin below them, she pulled back. "Sorry guys," she said sympathetically. Grabbing the Southerners in front of her, she shoved them through the wall, then sprinted off to catch up with Logan.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A stout woman in a nurses uniform stepped around the corner, watching the young girl run down the hallway with cool eyes. Pulling a cell phone from her pocket, she pressed a single button and raised it to her ear.

"Eric." Her irises flashed golden for a brief second as she quirked her lips. "You are _not_ going to believe this."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**A/N:** Happy Easter, everyone!

Couple notes: The chess scene depicts one of my favorite opening moves: the King's gambit. Foreshadowing much? Also… I'm aware of the discrepancy of coma-boy's name. In the movie, his name was David… but I just think Cody is such a part of Rogue's history, that it truly does her a disservice to alter the most devastating turning point of her life. So Cody it is.


	14. Cab It?

This is the aptly-named transition chapter from hell. I had the most difficult time pounding this out. But over all, I'm more or less pleased. The song used in this chapter is from The Muppet Movie. Youtube Moving Right Along if you aren't familiar with it; I grew up belting this in the car during long trips.

**Cab it?**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Ah'm gonna kill Kitty._

Rogue stomped out of the restroom in the sparcely stocked gas station . Her hair was dripping wet and her face sported a fierce scowl. She passed a trashcan and unceremoniously dumped an armful of soiled clothing into it. She snagged a huge bag of twizzlers, angrily waved them at Remy, and snarled, "Ah'm takin' these." Then she marched to the doors, threw them open, and exited.

Remy turned back to the cashier with his eyebrows raised. "….and one packet o'twizzlers."

After paying for gas and two Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, Remy sauntered toward the waiting car. His own hair was soaking, his bangs hanging in clumps over his sunglasses. He had changed into a thin, white tee shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders and clearly outlined the generous contours of his chest. Having dumped his dirty trench coat into the trunk of the car, there was nothing obstructing Rogue's view of Remy's impressive physique. When Remy leaned over the car door to hand her her cup, she found herself staring dumbly at the flexing muscles of his arm, stretched and dimpled under his bronzed skin.

Remy cleared his throat and Rogue started. How embarrassing. She grabbed the steaming cup clumsily, ignoring the sting of hot liquid spilling onto her jeans, and kept her eyes on the dashboard as Remy sat beside her and started the engine.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as they drove westward. It was an awkwardness that they hadn't been used to since their first day together.

Rogue sighed as she stared out of the window. _Road. Road. Road….Oh, fuck it! _ "Ya can drop me off anywhere if you want. You don't have ta keep towin' me around if ya don't feel comfortable with the likes o' me," she offered, her voice low and unhappy.

Remy looked askance at her, remaining silent. After a few moments, he shook his head sadly. "Dere seems t'be a lot y'be runnin' from, _hein?_ Y'keep runnin' and runnin', tryin' to escape from de t'ing y'fear most in dis world… but no matter how fast y'pump y'feet, y'can' seem t'run away from yoself. It follows y'everywhere y'go, _mais non? _ Seems de scariest t'ings chasin' ya, de t'ings wit' de highest stakes, dey come from wit'in and dere's not'in to do but stop an' face dem."

"Well, that was rather… poetic."

Remy smiled, a bit wanly. "_Peut-etre._ _Mais, _ still t'ink it be true. Y'ain't de only one wit' somethin' t'run from, _Chere._"

Rogue turned her head to look at Remy's disgustingly beautiful profile. His eyes looked distant and sad. "Sometimes ya gotta run ta keep the people ya care about from getting' hurt," she said softly.

"Den you surround yoself wit' people willin' to take de risk."

"Like reckless Cajun showoffs who can't seem ta go two hours without stickin' their nose inta somethin' stupid?"

The shit-eating grin was back. "'xactly."

Rogue huffed, turning back to stare out of the window again and settled herself into another stretch of strained silence.

"_Movin' right along_…"

Rogue opened her eyes and angled her head against the windowpane to look questioningly at the driver.

"…_in search of good times and good news, Wit' good friends you can't lose, Dis could become a habit!"_

Rogue lifted her head and looked at Remy incredulously. "Are you singin'…. The Muppets?"

"_Opportunity knocks once let's reach out and grab it. Toget'er we'll nab it, We'll hitchhike, bus or yellow cab it!"_

"God Almighty, you really are." Rogue palmed her forehead and tried not to laugh.

"_Movin' right along, footloose and fancy-free_ – Come on, _Chere_! - _Getting dere is half de fun; come share it wit' me."_

Rogue couldn't contain a snort.

"Come _ON_, _Chere! I know y'know it."_ Remy reached over and started poking Rogue annoyingly in the shoulder.

"Fine!" Rogue relented, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "…Movin' Right along," She deadpanned.

"_doog-a-doon doog-a-doon!"_

"Oh, Jesus."

"_Cheeeeereee."_

"God, Okay! _Movin' right along."_

"_We'll learn to share de load."_

There was a brief pause before Remy looked pointedly at Rogue, who rolled her eyes.

"_We don't need a map to keep this show on the road," _she finished. Her control broke and a laughing grin spread across her face.

"Hey, dat song is sounding better, Roguey," Remy spoke in a Kermet The Frog voice in an aside toward Rogue, causing her to bark out a laugh.

"_Movin' right along, we've found a life on de highway_."

"_And your way is mah way_," Rogue interjected.

"_So trust my navigation."_

"California here we come, the pie-in-the-sky-land."

"_Palm trees, and warm sand."_

"_Though sadly we just left Rhode Island."_

"We did what?"

"Just forget it, Rems."

"_Movin' right along_," they started together.

"_Doog-a-doon doog-a-doon, _mais_ LA, where y' gone_?" Remy crooned.

"_Send someone ta fetch us, we're in Sasketchewan_!" Rogue screamed.

_"Movin' right along."_

"_doog-a-doon doog-a-doon, Y'take it, y'know best."_

"_Hey, Ah've never seen the sun come up in the… West?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bella wiped a small speck of dirt off one of her new suede boots. She smiled down at the stunningly red material. Remy would love them. Standing straight, she looked up at the broken vent opening in the ceiling of the garage.

The mall was dark and isolated at this time of night. The security lights failed to chase away deep shadows that encased the property, cloaking it in an eerie façade of abandonment.

Bella had enjoyed herself in the empty jewelry shop. As a proud member of the Assassins Guild, she would never lower herself to the crass act of stealing, but she took note of a few precious items she'd make sure to mention to Remy once she caught up to him. She sauntered toward the exit, but stopped when she heard a soft rustling in the background. There were two of them. Her trained ears identified the sound as military grade boots striking linoleum in a deft shuffle.. Special Ops or mercenary. As she approached the door entering the mall, she concentrated on the sound of swishing fabric. Thin, synthetic fibers. Mercenaries, then. The movement sounded easy, unrestrained. They were not holding their weapons. They were headed eastward as they passed the doorway. Toward the Jewelry shop. Bella smiled.

The younger, shorter of the two men had swept the surrounding area and was just settling in to guard outside of the store when he heard a soft giggle to his right. He turned his head just in time to see a blood red boot fly at his face. He didn't see anything else as he was thusly knocked out flat.

The second man was speaking quietly into the two-way radio mounted on his shoulder. He was crouched over, eyeing the edge of the empty jewelry case that was wrapped so tightly in police tape, it almost looked like a maypole. In the position he was in, there was no saving him from falling to the floor when the kick came to the back of his knees. A dainty, yet forceful hand gloved in fine suede grabbed the front of his uniform, forcing him backward as his body dropped. The next second found him sprawled on hard linoleum. One stiletto pinned his right hand to the floor. His left was tucked up against his body by a kneeling leg. The hand that had gripped his uniform moved to his throat and constricted warningly. The man prepared to buck and twist out of the hold, but he froze when he felt the cool metal of a blade caress his cheek.

Bella sat on the man's abdomen and playfully dragged the knife down the contours of the man's face. His eyes were hard as they glared up at her, but she could feel the slight tremor in his body. She smiled coyly down at him. "Why Handsome, y'be makin' m'job so much easier. T'ought I was gon' have t'go back an' search for a new lead. But den I see one come an' trip right in front o'me. See, dere's no ot'er reason for a merc t' be sniffin' around here unless y'be dealin' wit' Mon beau. So, I's only gonna ask y'twice. Where's Gambit?"

A drop of sweat ran down the man's forehead and hit the tip of the blade. Bella lifted the knife away from his skin and raised it to eye level. She tilted her head to the side as she watched the droplet hang from the tip, glittering in the dim light. It fell from the blade and splattered half an inch below the man's eye. He winced, then recovered, staring up at her in silent resolve.

Bella used the blade to scrape the tear away from his cheek. She wiped it dry against her thigh then brought it back up above the man's face. Quick as lightening, she slammed her fist down. The hilt of the knife collided with the man's nose and the snapping of cartilage seemed to echo through the room. The low moan in the back of the man's throat quickly turned into gurgling choking as blood flowed down his trachea and gushed out of his nostrils. He was forced to close his eyes when the blood spread past his cheekbones and pooled in the crevasses of above his cheeks.

"Y'need a second before I ask again?"

The man continued to choke.

Bella shifted her body weight to the side and used the hand grasping the man's throat to yank him into a somewhat-sitting position. She gave him a minute to clear his airway. When he quieted, Bella moved her face an inch in front of the man's. Nose to leaking nose, she growled, "Where's Gambit?"

The expression in the man's eyes shifted to a sort of tired resignation. He knew she wasn't bluffing and he knew both of them held no expectation that he would say a word.

Bella sighed in irritation. "Fine." She slashed the knife in an sweeping arch, leaning her body away from the arterial spray when the man's throat slit open. She rose to her feet and started for the guard she had left sprawled across the entrance of the shop.

"No, my dear, gutting one of my soldiers is certainly more than enough. They do not come cheaply, you know."

Bella whirled around as a dark figure stepped out of the shadows.

He was immensely tall and broad-shouldered. His skin was so pale and dry, it was a wonder there was any blood pumping underneath it at all. Thin, withered lips curled into a polite smile. His hair, surprisingly, was thick and lush, combed back from his forehead, exposing a prominent widow's peak. A strange red jewel rested upon the middle of his forehead, grotesquely, as if someone had impaled it into his flesh. But even this odd accessory did not steal Bella's attention away from his eyes. Deep, sunken, and unnaturally red. Not the pretty sparkling ruby of Remy's irises against a calming midnight. A piercing red of warning, danger, evil. The darkness that surrounded these eyes was purely in the symbolic sense. His hands remained at his sides, palms open. His towering form, swathed in a black duster, unmoving. "It seems," he began conversationally, "we have something in common."

Bella cocked her hip to the side and crossed her arms, the wet blade in her right hand tapping against her bicep in annoyance. "Dat so?"

"I dare say our little thief is becoming rather popular. High speed chases, missing jewels, beautiful women trailing after him…"

Bella stilled her knife as she listened to the creepy man in front of her. Looks like her darling Remy had been keeping himself busy. She really did want to find him before the holidays so he'd have time to retrieve her Christmas presents.

"I'm listenin'."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Movin' right along_," they sang together, bouncing their heads from side to side in tandem, _"we're truly birds of a feather, we're in this together!"_

Remy took over, "_…and we know where we're goin'!"_

Rogue gestured in front of her with splayed hands, "_Movie stars with flashy cars and life with the top down,"_

"_We're stormin' de big town,"_

Rogue dropped her hands and looked at Remy, "Yeah, Storm is right should it be snowin'?"

Remy stared back at her with wide eyes, "Uh, no I don't t'ink so..."

They both shrugged and joined in together, "_Movin' right along! Footloose and fancy-free!"_

"_Ya ready for the big time,"_

"_Is it ready f'me?"_

Their heads continued to bounce to the imaginary rhythm as they trailed off into silence.

"Hey, Roguey?" Remy's head was still moving.

"Yeah Rems?"

"Dose people who were after ya. _Dat_ was y'family?"

Rogue sighed and her head stopped bobbing to the beat. "Yeah, Ah guess. They're who Ah live with anyway."

"But dey care 'bout ya."

She nodded, reluctantly. "Ah guess they do. Ah mean, we all look out for each other. We train really hard ta be a team and we all can understand each other on some level… the whole bein'-a-mutant-thang, ya know?"

Remy nodded back at her. He stayed silent for a minute. His next question was phrased carefully. "Y'all are de X Men."

This surprised Rogue. She looked over at Remy suspiciously, but his face was neutral. "Yeah. We are."

"Y'really are givin' up a whole lot runnin' away like dis, ain'tcha?"

She shrugged, uncomfortable. "Ah guess Ah'm just done sittin' back and playin' the good guy for a while. Ah was suffocatin'. Ah'd wake up every mornin' and feel like a lab rat trapped in its cage, forced to do daily rituals without any say in the matter. Guess it's time for me to let loose, say 'fuck all' and just do what Ah feel Ah need to. For a while, at least." She shrugged again, willing him to understand.

Remy was looking at her. It made her nervous so she dropped her eyes and started picking at her gloves.

A hand came into her vision and wrapped itself around hers, squeezing gently. When she looked up, Remy's sunglasses were gone and she found herself staring into his deep crimson eyes. They were warm and understanding.

"Yeah… yeah, Y'may be right, _Chere_," he said thoughtfully, "Say 'fuck all.' Mebbe it be time to ignore all dat responsibility bullcrap an' just follow where yo' heart points ya." He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel and looked as if he were debating something in his head. Finally, he nodded with finality and grinned over at her. "Y'ever been to N'Awlins?"

Rogue looked back at him with wide eyes. "Um… not since Ah was a little kid."

"_Bon!_" Remy put on the turn signal and prepared to exit the freeway.

"Why do Ah have that forebodin' feelin' that something significant just happened and Ah'm about to walk into somethin' Ah might regret?"

"Nonsense, _Chere , _ no regrets on dis trip. I's gon show you de best vacation of y'life!" Remy started singing again in his Kemet The Frog voice. "_Movin' right aloooooong_!"

"Riiiiiiight," Rogue responded unenthusiastically. "What the hell did Ah just get myself into?"

Remy ignored her. "_Movin' right alooooong_," he continued, the huge grin plastered on his face scaring the bajeebus out of her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scott and Logan's arms were crossed over their chests. Kitty and Ororo's hands were poised on their hips. Each pair glared at each other from across the War Room table.

Charles Xavier sat between them with an eyebrow quirked. "Perhaps we should take a few days to regroup, rest up a bit, and reassess the situation. It seems at the moment with all the conflicting opinions we do not have enough information to correctly appraise the situation. Let's take a few days to enjoy the holidays, then resume our assessment with clear minds.

"_Enjoy the_ _Holidays?_ _That's_ your answer? _Enjoy _the_ Holidays!" _Logan all but roared.

"Yeah, Kitty's Jewish," Bobby offered from across the room. Seven pairs of eyes glared back at him.

"You're an idiot," Piotr whispered back at him.

The Professor patiently folded his hands on the tabletop. "It's just a couple of days. By all accounts, Rogue seems unharmed and she is certainly capable of taking care of herself. We all need time to unwind. Now, please get some rest and enjoy yourself. Do remember that this holiday season is about family and good tidings. It is a time for reflection of what we have and what we can give to others. " He wheeled himself out of the room, the X men around him not moving a muscle until the door closed tightly behind him.

Then all hell broke loose as the screaming match began.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

God, she had missed the Mississippi. She grew up playing in the muddy waters, throwing boys off of docks and diving for turtles to take home and scare her mother with. She'd lay on the bow of Cody's dad's sailboat, sunning herself and waiting for the moon to rise and the fireflies to come out and dance over the cool water. She missed the heat. The humidity. The bursts of fiery color as the sun set over river.

But she supposed the sun wouldn't set over the water from this side of the Mississippi.

Rogue leaned over the balcony of the Bienville House Hotel as she watched the darkness creeping over the sky. Small yet elegant, the hotel was in the typical Spanish style of the French Quarter. Belying the name, the majority of the architecture in the famous historical district of New Orleans was not French. Over the past few centuries, devastating fires had burned the city to the ground, forcing it to be rebuilt multiple times. The last being while the city was under Spanish rule, so the streets of the French Quarter were filled with narrow buildings decorated with wrought-iron gates, flowered courtyards, and latticed balconies.

Remy had left her alone, once again, claiming to take care of a few errands. He had only been gone an hour, but she was getting antsy. She had a feeling something significant was about to happen, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what. She wanted the Cajun to come back so she could yell at him, just to add some normalcy to the situation.

The short trip across the Louisiana border and into the city of New Orleans was filled with Creole music blaring from the radio speakers and Remy pointing out personal landmarks every half block. Rogue would have been annoyed at his hyperactivity if it wasn't just so damned adorable. It was as if he was granted a ticket to a kiddy theme park that he hadn't been allowed to visit since childhood.

The Victorian-style street lights were blinking on, one by one, below her. She sighed and rested her chin on her forearms as they pressed into the iron railing. Her eyes were fluttering closed, so she didn't see the projectile aimed at her. It hit her in the face and she sputtered a bit, fumbling to catch the thrown item. It was a red rose.

Rogue looked down with a confused frown on her face, holding the flower as if she half-expected it to grow fangs and bite her.

Below her was a man in a sharp pinstripe suit and matching fedora. He swooped the hat off of his head, revealing dark hair slicked back away from his face. He bowed grandly, his clean-shaven face still raised to hers. She could see his white teeth flashing through the darkness as he presented her a full, debonair smile. She could just make out baby blue eyes sparkling at her.

_What the fuck?_

_Someone tell that guy the Rat Pack convention was LAST weekend…_

_What's the matter, Sabrekitty, miss lunchtime? _

_Hah! I get it! Lunchtime… rats…cause he's a cat!_

_Shut up, Bobby._

"Think ya dropped somethin', Mickey Blue Eyes," Rogue drawled down at the man, dangling the rose between two fingers.

"What de matter, _Chere?_ Don' like a little Sinatra t'seranade ya from y'balcony?"

Rogue froze, her mouth dropping open. "_Remy?"_

Remy placed the fedora back on his head with a satisfied smirk and proceeded to climb up the latticework next to her window. Swinging onto the terrace with the grace of Fred Astaire, he gathered up Rogue in his arms and swung her around in a graceful waltz, lowering her into a low dip.

Literally swept off her feet, Rogue couldn't help but catch her breath as Remy tightened his arms around her waist, his face only inches from hers. "Miss me?" he whispered. His warm breath hit her cheek. Mint with a hint of cigarette smoke. Her heart was pounding between their bodies.

"See ya finally got around to shavin'," she responded dryly.

Remy quirked a smile and set her on her feet. Unfurling his arms from around her, he turned and entered the hotel room.

Rogue followed, hugging her body, as if trying to recover from the loss of Remy's body heat. But her voice was strong, playful. "What's with the make-over?"

Remy tipped the fedora low over one eye. "Why, _Chere?_ See somet'in' y'like?"

Rogue just snorted.

Remy exhaled a little, his smile lessening around the edges. "To tell de trut'… Remy's not really supposed t'be in de city."

Rogue's voice was low and dangerous. "What do you _mean_ Remy's not _supposed_ to be in the city?"

"Well," Remy rubbed the back of his neck and managed to look a bit bashful, "s'long story. Old family feud. Kinda made a big ol' mess o' some big _entente_ and riled up a bunch o' angry politics. Not s'posed t'be no less den thirty miles o' de city limits on pain o'death." He shrugged, eyes focusing on picking at a hangnail.

"Swamprat."

"Hey, we's all supposed t'be "fuck all", remember? Don' worry bout it none; no one ain't even gon' know I'm here. It's an adventure, _Chere. _Come _onn..."_ his voice took on an almost whining quality as he bounced up and down on his heels. "_C'est La Ville! Dans la veille de Noel!_"

Despite herself, Rogue cracked a smile and rolled her eyes. He was like a fucking child sometimes. A cute, irresistible, incorrigible child. "How'd you get your eyes all normal?"

"Contacts."

"And you're sure you're not gonna get yourself – or me for that matter – killed?"

"Just don' go shoutin' m'name around de streets and if I's tell ya t'book it, you do it."

"Greeeaat," Rogue drawled with mock enthusiasm. She wanted to be mad that Remy put them in this dangerous, foolhardy situation, but if she were honest with herself, this was hardly anything new for either of them. "Kinda smart, dressin' all respectable like so no one could possibly recognize ya."

"_Alors! _Dat hurts. An' _non, _dis handsome devil be dressin' all respectable 'cause it's almost time f'Christmas mass. So hurry up now," he tossed an until-now unnoticed plastic bag at Rogue, "We don' wanna be late to de church." Remy turned on his heels and went into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Rogue stood frozen in shock, the clothing bag hanging limply from her fingers.

Oh yeah. That's what she forgot. It was Christmas.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Translations:

_C'est La Ville! Dans la veille de Noel!_ - It's the village! (a nickname for New Orleans) On Christmas Eve!

The Bienville house is a real hotel in The French Quarter. Very snazzy place. :)


	15. Adeste Fideles

So…. I broke down and started reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Being a fanfic writer and addict, I felt it important to support it, even if I'm not that big into Twilight. But…Holy Cow.. It has completely dominated my free time – hence the delayed update. I seriously couldn't put the series down. If y'all haven't picked it up yet… it's smutty and angsty and absolutely enthralling.

A special thanks to MidnightManic, DxTxGx, florecitarockera, Fannut, TheWritingGirl23, Shiba-san, Captain Bohannon, KitsuK8, Devil Danielle Diaries, Alfredo Joy, Skyfire, MojoFix, Jean1, and Xann for their blush-rendering reviews. You help keep this story going.

The song featured in this chapter is Ani Difranco's Both Hands.

**Adeste Fideles**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Rogue fiddled with the hem of her new dress. She felt uncomfortable wearing such light, flimsy fabric. A stunning forest green that complimented her bright eyes, the dress did a fantastic job of covering her skin; it draped around her collarbones and traveled down the length of her arms, flaring prettily as it ended a couple inches beyond her wrist, drawing attention away from the black gloves that continued down her fingers. It hugged her waist perfectly; tight enough to display her figure, yet loose enough to remain comfortable and tasteful. The hemline of the skirt flared as it skimmed the top of her knees, giving Rogue the girlish desire to twirl about to see the fabric fly around her. She resisted, though, awkwardly tugging the fabric farther down her legs instead. The dress was perfect. With black stockings and a sheer black scarf, everything important was covered, and the thin material was light and airy, allowing her skin to breathe in the humid Southern evening. In short, it was probably the most beautiful, comfortable, most _perfect_ dress she'd ever owned… and by far, undoubtedly, the most expensive… and for these reasons, Rogue was immensely uncomfortable.

She was standing in front of the St. Louis Cathedral. The magnificent white structure glowed like an ethereal vessel in the strategically placed floodlights. From her position within the deep shadows of Jackson Square, the contrast was all the more majestic.

Beside her, the tall Cajun tipped his fedora over his brow and leaned back against the stone monument standing proudly in the center of the sparsely- lit garden. He lifted his cigarette to his mouth and took long, easy drags as he gazed languidly up at the imposing piece of architecture before him.

Rogue watched the smoke dance from the tip of his cigarette, finding it helpful in calming her nerves. She wasn't a religious person. She recalled her aunt taking her to Sunday service a couple of times when she was younger, but the small, easy-going Southern Baptist church that had shared its space with a community center and a thrift shop seemed a far cry from the intimidatingly formal Catholic cathedral in front of her.

The deep, booming sound of a bell tolling made Rogue jump. It echoed loudly throughout the square, causing her to wince. _ Gawd, ya think they heard ya over in New Mexico? Yeeesh._

Remy pressed his lips together and exhaled smoke through his nostrils. He dropped the butt of his cigarette and stepped on it, then lifted his elbow toward Rogue. "Y'ready, _Chere? _Baby Jesus is waitin'."

Rogue gave him an uneasy look but reached out and tucked her arm within his, letting him guide her across the square and through the grand entryway of the church.

It was packed. The pews were overflowing with families. Men and women aligned the walls, craning their necks to peer passed the ornate white columns that blocked their view of the pulpit. Rogue swallowed as Remy tugged her through the crowd. He dropped her arm when he approached a golden bowl proudly presented atop a marble pillar just inside of the nave. Reaching his right hand into the bowl, he dipped his fingers into the water and crossed himself. The motion was so automatic, Rogue wondered if he even realized it happened.

She hesitated. Was she supposed to follow suit? She looked around and realized others were reaching past her to dip their fingers into the bowl as well. Mentally shrugging, she dipped her gloved index finger into the water and did some uncertain, general sweeping motions in front of her face. She wiped her hand on her skirt, trying not to think of all the germs that had surely accumulated in that water, with that many people sticking their hands in it. _Did holy water even have germs? Maybe it had godly antibacterial properties to it or something…_

Remy pulled her toward the rows of varnished pews. Somehow, he had managed to secure a spot for them both on the very edge of the farthest bench. Rogue smiled her appreciation at him. He smirked back as he removed his fedora and replaced them with stylish, gold-rimmed glasses. The effect they had on his face made Rogue's eyebrows raise. With his hair still slicked back, he looked smart and chic… even respectable… and very _un_Remy.

Rogue tore her eyes away from the angular planes of his face as the choir began _Oh Come All Ye Faithful _ and everyone stood. She was about to join with the people around her… until she realized they were singing the song in Latin. _Seriously?_

She watched as a line of alter boys marched down the aisle, followed by an elderly man with a thick grey beard and an impressive girth. He was draped in a long white robe, intricately ornamented in gold. Rogue couldn't stop herself from thinking, _Hey, it's Santa!_

The procession continued down the main aisle and up the stairs leading to the alter. Backs to the audience, they huddled around a near-life-sized nativity that Rogue had failed to notice before. She admired the almost scarily realistic figures positioned around a manger stocked with real hay. The plaster infant laying atop the straw bedding had an illogically serene expression on his face as it stared blankly at the ceiling.

Rogue leaned over to Remy and whispered, "Heh. It's kind of cute."

"Shh."

After the Santa Priest waved a strange smoking lantern in front of the inorganic baby Jesus, the processional moved in tandem to the mounted crucifix in the center of the alter and kneeled briefly before scattering to various positions around the proscenium.

Santa stood in the center of the alter and waited until the echoes of the choir's last notes cleared the rafters. He raised his hand and traced the pattern of a cross in front of him. "Blessed be with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

"Amen," the parishioners around her repeated. Startled, she gushed out a belated "amen" a bit louder than she intended.

Remy gave her a sideways glance and she flushed, embarrassed.

Santa asked them to be seated, and Rogue gratefully shrunk into the pew.

Rogue allowed her mind to drift as the Santa Priest welcomed the parishioners in a surprisingly soothing, melodic voice. She studied the beautiful, if foreign, architecture around her. Beautiful chandeliers hung above the pews, casting a dim, golden hue around the white columns that surrounded the mass of people. Flags hung proudly from the balconies. She only recognized a handful of them. The French flag. British. American. Spanish.

Remy leaned over and whispered in her, "De flags on de right side represent de different countries N'Awlins has been ruled under."

"And the ones on the left?" She whispered back.

"Various Catholic t'ings." He pointed discretely to one. "Dat be de papal crest. An' dat be de coat o'arms of de basilica."

Rogue nodded, not completely understanding his descriptions. She jerked her chin toward the front of the church, where a beautifully detailed mural posed high above the alter. She had to squint to see the details, but she could make out a lot of men waving swords. "That's a little violent for a church, dontcha think?"

Remy chuckled into Rogue's hair. She could feel goose bumps spread over her flesh and she had to bite her cheeks to keep from shivering.

"Dat be King Louis announcing de seventh crusade." He paused, considering. "Don't t'ink dere's a lot o' t'ings more bloody den Catholic history."

Rogue pondered this as she studied the frescos spread across the domed ceiling.

Suddenly, she was startled out of her musings as everyone rose to their feet. She followed suit, eyes wide.

"Don' look so scared, _Chere._"

"Don't look so ugly, Cajun."

She heard Remy stifle a snicker as the Santa Priest began singing in a lovely baritone. "…_T__hrough __him__, and with __him__, and __in __him__, O God, almighty Father, in _the _unity of the Holy Spirit__, all glory and honor is yours, forever and ever. Amen."_

The congregation echoed an 'amen', which Rogue managed to catch the tail end in a sort of mumbled growl. Santa continued on, and the volley of phrases continued. By the fourth "amen," Rogue simply ceased trying to keep up.

The following hour consisted of a physically demanding game of bouncing from seating to standing, to kneeling, to back to standing in seemingly random order. Rogue had attempted in the beginning to follow the lyrics in the hymnal when the Psalms were sung, but soon found herself so lost, she stopped trying and began repeating the word "watermelon" over and over again, recalling that someone had once told her mouthing it when you don't know a song makes it look like you do. She stopped when she noticed Remy shaking violently beside her. She elbowed him hard, realizing he was trying to contain his laughter at her.

Finally, there was a lull in the holy calisthenics as they were given a chance to pray individually. Grateful for the break, Rogue took the time to study the low relief of the balconies.

Remy leaned over again. "Once upon a time, de balconies of a cathedral were reserved fo' royalty. Nowadays, de balconies are usually empty, _mais in _N'awlins? We never let go o'de tradition. Durin' Holidays, dis be de one place y'can find all de powerhouses dat run de city up in dose rafters."

Rogue inhaled sharply as she gazed at the figures seated above them. They sat as still and straight as statues, the power and regality rolling off of them in waves. A memory stirred in the back of her mind. "The guilds," she whispered under her breath.

Remy eyed her for a brief moment. "_Oui."_

She found she couldn't pull her eyes away from the balcony. She knew instinctively, uncomfortably, that she was staring at Remy's family. And for reasons she couldn't quite unlock in her brain, she knew it was a remarkably significant event. _Significant and dangerous_. Somehow, she knew that if any one of those figures glanced down and noticed them, something very bad would happen. However, she knew that something even worse would happen if the family on the opposite balcony, just above her head, were to gain knowledge of their presence. The phrase _Assassins_ bounced around her head, fuzzy and without context, but with very obvious threat.

What in the bleeding hell did Remy get her into?

She didn't have the option of lingering on that thought, as the organ started up again and the priest invited everyone to approach for communion. Surely she could just sit back and wait this part out?

Of course, she wasn't that lucky. Remy turned to her and yanked her to her feet by her hand. "Kay, Rougey, why don' y'go up dere an' get yo cookie an' I'll meet y'back here in a few minutes, _hein?"_

Rogue didn't think that was an actual question, seeing as he was already pushing her forward into the line. She turned back to scowl at him, but found the space he had occupied only moments before empty. She looked around the crowded nave, but found him nowhere in sight. Grumbling to herself, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to keep from bumping into the people around her.

The line moved at an agonizingly slow pace. She ignored the disapproval of the old woman behind her as she fidgeted and squirmed her way down the aisle. By the time she approached the alter, she had been so busy twisting her hair into knots that she forgot to observe the procession to figure out what the heck it was she was supposed to be doing. She quickly turned her eyes to the man in front of her, who had obediently tilted his head back and opened his mouth as the priest placed a wafer on his tongue.

Rogue's eyes bulged. _Oh shit. Ah'm gonna end up knockin' out the holy man in front of everybody! Man, if Ah wasn't goin' to hell before now…_

The priest looked down at her kindly. She just stared up at him like an idiot.

_Dude. Just stick your hands out._

_What? _

_Just trust me, babe._

Jerkily, she thrust her palms in front of her face. The priest offered her an understanding smile and waved the wafer around, reciting the blessing, then placed it in her hands.

_Now dip it in the chalice._

Rogue approached the boy holding a large, ornate cup filled with wine. She dipped the host into the cup.

_This CANNOT be sanitary._

Walking away from the alter, she popped the wafer into her mouth with a shrug. A moment later, her steps faltered as the papery substance hit the roof of her mouth and stayed there. Trying to keep the grimace from her face, she worked to loosen the disintegrating wafer with her tongue and attempted to chew as she made her way back to her seat. By the time she got there, the host had formed into a pasty mass of goo that was sticking stubbornly to her teeth. She forced it down her dry throat, thinking back to the fried chicken her aunt's church had passed around at the big barbeque held after the service.

Rogue waited awkwardly in her seat, hoping Remy returned soon. The rest of the parishioners were settling back in into their places as she nervously looked around for the missing Cajun. Her head swiveled toward the center aisle just in time for a cold splash of water to hit her square in the face. Jerking back, she sputtered. "What the h—" She broke off, mouth hanging open, when she saw Santa in front of her, holding a bowl in one hand and a sprig of pine in the other, raised to sprinkle holy water upon the worshipers.

Santa's eyebrows were raised and he held the patient, slightly amused expression that Professor Xavier often gave her after she had done something juvenile and idiotic.

"Ah mean…" she continued meekly, "…peace be with ya?"

Santa gave her a small smile, and his eyes glittered with humor. "And also with you," he responded lightheartedly before moving on.

Rogue sank back into the pew and covered her heated face with her hands. A moment later, a hand reached out and gripped Rogue's upper arm. Instinctually, she tugged away, but the arm tugged back and she turned to see Remy leaning over the back of the pew, trying to pull her to her feet.

"Time t'go."

Rogue gave him a confused look and pointed toward the priest, who was settling back into the palpate. "Ah think he has more to say."

Remy cracked an amused smile. "I'm sure he has lots t'say, _mais,_ it be time t'take our leave."

Despite the easy smile, Rogue noticed the stress around his eyes and opted to let him drag her out of the church without a fuss, sparing one last look back up to the balcony before the ornate oak door closed behind her.

XXXXXXXX

The hotel room was dark, intimate, despite the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Remy looked preoccupied, undoing his skinny tie and throwing it on top of his duffle bag. The fedora and spectacles followed.

Rogue stifled a yawn with the back of her hand as she approached her bed. Stumbling out of her mary janes, she collapsed face-first on top of the covers and decided not to move from that position for a good long while. _Seriously, who thought having mass in the middle of the freakin' night was a good idea?_

She could hear Remy moving around the room but didn't turn her head to look at him until he let out an exaggerated cough beside her. She slowly twisted her neck and opened her sleep-laden eyelids. They immediately shot wide open when she took in Remy's white dress shirt hanging off of his broad shoulders, held together with only one button halfway down his chest. One corner was still tucked haphazardly in his black slacks, parting the edges of his shirt to reveal the tanned skin of his lower abdomen. He leaned into one hip in a relaxed pose that somehow came across as both cocky and unbelievably sexy. His hair was tousled and hung messily around playful, glowing eyes. He'd taken out his contacts. Rogue didn't trust the smirk on his face.

After a moment, he spoke. "Every Christmas morn', I'd wake up to a broom in m'face. Tante Mattie would be hollerin' in her Haitian Creole, wakin' de whole house. Every year, she'd take pains to hide de Christmas presents so no one would find em early, and every year, she'd wake up Christmas mornin' wit' t'scraps o'wrappin' paper all over de livin'room floor an' all m'presents missin'. I just never could wait for de sun t'rise t'open m'gifts." He grinned, wide and playful, like a young boy boasting about his adventures in rule-breaking.

Rogue couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, although she wondered where the hell he was going with this.

"So…" he continued, "far be it from me t'break tradition, _non?" _ Remy stepped to the side, revealing a large box wrapped in goofy Christmas paper. It took up a good quarter of the bed. A ridiculously large bow sat atop it, the color of that stupid Cajun's eyes.

Something large and heavy dropped in Rogue's stomach. She scrambled into a sitting position, her face etched in horror. "Ya stupid Cajun! You didn't tell me we were exchangin' gifts!"

"I know."

Rogue looked up at him, studying his self-satisfied expression. Uncomfortable, Rogue scowled. "Jerk."

Remy's grin only widened. He reached over and tugged on Rogue's hand, forcing her toward the obscenely large box. He kept nudging her until she moved to tear at the wrapping paper.

Rolling her eyes, Rogue acquiesced. Dealing with the slick paper in her gloves was a bit awkward, but she managed. Balling up the trash, she threw it behind her, hoping in the direction of that smug Cajun's face. Plain cardboard met her fingers and she struggled to rip open the top of the box. When she finally managed to tear off the top, the cardboard immediately slipped from her fingers and thumped to the floor when she took sight of what was resting inside.

She could feel the blood drain from her face, then immediately return in a powerful blush, making her feel light-headed. Her hands shook as she lifted the beautiful, shiny black guitar case from the box.

"You stupid, stupid Cajun," she breathed as she laid the case on the bed and opened it. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the dim light hit and reflected off the jade polish. It was the guitar she had gushed and drooled over so embarrassingly back in Nashville. "Ah don't know whether to smack you or kiss you, Remy." Her voice was hollow and breathy with wonder. She couldn't take her eyes off of the beautiful instrument. "The smack would be the less painful punishment."

"Ah, but so much more wort' it, _oui?" _ came the playful reply. Rogue rolled her eyes and ignored him, reverently placing her hands under the guitar and lifting it out of the case. She sat on her bed with her legs crossed, cradling her present. With only the slightest bit of hesitation, she pulled off her gloves and set them beside her. She caressed the smooth wood and ran her fingers over the strings.

When she looked up at Remy, she was startled to find his eyes dark and hooded as they watched her fingers dance over the instrument as she tuned it. "…Ah didn't get ya anythin'…" She whispered awkwardly.

Remy's eyes flicked to her face, taking in her sheepish expression. Shaking his head, smiled softly. "A song."

"What?"

"Y'can give me a song, Rogue."

Rogue's eyes widened and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks again. "Ahhh…." She flustered.

Remy's smile turned mischievous. "Don' tell me de Rogue be shy?" His eyes sparkled as they laughed at her.

Rogue scowled. "Ah ain't shy." She shifted uncomfortably. "…well, what should Ah play?"

"Play de first t'ing dat comes to y'mind." Remy pushed the discarded box off of his bed and sprawled down on his side, his body propped up by his elbow, his head resting on a fist.

Rogue took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Reluctantly, she nodded and turned her body around so she sat facing the wall.

"_Chere?"_

"You stay there, Swamp rat. Ah don't want ya ugly mug messin' me up." Rogue closed her eyes and willed her nerves to disappear. They didn't, but she managed to keep her hands from shaking too much to play the guitar. Without preamble, she began strumming, softly. Quick staccato chords that exposed a simple melody, yet filled with a sort of quiet yearning. After a few bars, with her eyes still screwed shut, she opened her mouth and began singing lightly.

"_I am walking  
out in the rain  
and I am listening to the low moan  
of the dial tone again  
and I am getting  
nowhere with you  
and I can't let it go  
and I can't get through..."_

Her voice trailed off as the chords crescendoed, building in intensity. When she began singing again, her voice held more volume, more emotion, as she lost herself in the song.

_"The old woman behind the pink curtains  
and the closed door  
on the first floor  
she's listening through the air shaft  
to see how long our swan song can last  
and both hands  
now use both hands  
oh, no don't close your eyes  
I am writing  
graffiti on your body  
I am drawing the story of  
how hard we tried…"_

Rogue didn't hear the Cajun moving, but distantly she noted the bed shift under her as he sat behind her.

_"I am watching your chest rise and fall  
like the tides of my life,  
and the rest of it all  
and your bones have been my bedframe  
and your flesh has been my pillow  
I am waiting for sleep  
to offer up the deep  
with both hands."_

Rogue allowed the lyrics to pull her mind into a sensual daydream, allowing her imagination to surround her with visual and tactile illusions. It was torturous and heavenly.

_"And in each other's shadows we grew less and less tall  
and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all  
and I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall  
and when we leave the landlord will come  
and paint over it all  
and I am walking  
out in the rain  
and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again  
and I am getting nowhere with you  
and I can't let it go  
and I can't get though..."_

She imagined she could feel the searing eat of Remy's body wrapping around her. She pretended it was his arms instead. She knew it made her face flush a mortifying shade of red, but at the moment she was beyond caring. As the bridge ended, she trailed her voice off and the strumming quieted to an almost inaudible level. Very softly, she began the chorus again.

_"Both hands  
please use both hands  
oh, no don't close your eyes  
I am writing graffiti on your body  
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried."_

She sat there and strummed the sad chords._  
_

"_How hard we tried…" _

She repeated the last line a few more times before trailing off completely. The ringing of the last chords stayed in the air for longer than seemed logical. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of her breathing. Suddenly, she felt the warmth behind her shift, amplify.

A hand gently pressed into her back. The heat from it spread through her entire body. The caressing fingers drifted up her spine and curled around the back of her neck. The soft fabric of the gloves failed to dampen the searing heat. The fingers slid up her neck and reached the side of her jaw, pressing gently to turn her head.

Remy's stupidly beautiful face came into view and Rogue suppressed a moan. His eyes held a burning of their own as they stole Rogue's gaze and refused to release it.

Rogue's breathing hitched, her heart caught in her throat. She trembled as Remy smiled and caressed the side of her face.

"Merry Christmas, Rogue." His voice was deep and rich and filled with some heavy emotion.

Rogue's reply came out in a breathy whisper. "Merry Christmas, Remy."


	16. Running the Night

A/N: Hey Guys. Sorry about yet another long-assed hiatus. Gonna lay it all out there - It was a difficult summer. I went into residential treatment for a pretty serious eating disorder. Recovery is slow going, but I'm getting into a much better place now and art in its many mediums have been a huuuuuge help in getting through the tough times. So I'm diving back into my love. Why am I admitting all this- in an author's note at the top of a fan fiction no less? Because eating disorders are a serious thing and as much as they are spreading like a virus through our culture, they are also being distressingly ignored. This disorder kills. A lot. I'm lucky to still be breathing. And it's painful. And it's lonely. So please, if you know someone who is struggling, please lend them your support. If you yourself are struggling, remember that recovery is possible and it feels a hell of a lot nicer than the hell you have to wake up to every day. Pleasure and Happiness are possible for every soul on this planet. Blessed be, my lovelies.

(Ok, *deep breath*, that out of the way, this is the next chapter! I'm not a big fan of it - I was a bit too ambitious- but I'm really excited to get to the chapters following, so I'm getting the ball rolling. The featured song is Havanna Brown's We Run The Night.)

**Running The Night **

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Rogue woke up Christmas morning to a bright strip of eastern sun searing into her eyeballs. Grimacing, she rolled over onto her back and smushed her face into the pillow.

A few minutes later she heard the click and rattle of the hotel door unlocking. Eyes squinting, she watched as Remy slinked into the room, quietly easing the door shut.

Rogue's eyes shot wide open.

Remy was shirtless, wearing only a dark blue pair of basketball shorts and running shoes. His naked torso was glistening with sweat, accentuating the dips and curves of his impressive back muscles. He turned around lightly on his feet, smirking when he noticed Rogue's eyes on him. "Mornin'."

Rogue struggled to keep her attention on his face. "Mornin'," she returned, shyly.

When Remy retreated to the bathroom for a shower, Rogue groaned and slapped her arms over her face. That damned sexy Cajun was going to kill her.

After a few moments of deep breathing, Rogue rolled off the bed and stretched the kinks out of her body. Perhaps Remy had the right idea. It had been nearly a week and Rogue's body was not used to the break from daily Danger Room sessions. Rogue decided on some calisthenics to limber up.

Fifteen minutes later, Rogue was listening to Skrillex on her disk man while doing center squats and therefore did not hear the bathroom door open.

"Well, Merry Christmas t'me!"

Rogue gasped and whipped around.

Remy was standing on the other side of the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was still shirtless. His face was blank, serious, but his dark eyes glowed heatedly.

Rogue swallowed and felt the blood rush into her cheeks. They stared at each other from across the room for what seemed like an eternity. The air was heady between them, and for Rogue, uncomfortable. Finally, she managed to shake herself out of it and crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring the man in front of her. Raising an eyebrow, she drawled, "Merry Christmas, indeed, Cajun." She ran disinterested eyes over his form, poised and confident as a Greek statue. "Where's _mah_ present?"

Remy blinked, his mouth popping open in surprise.

Rogue smirked at him, then turned away to grab her bag. Strutting haughtily past him, she entered the bathroom and shut the door in Remy's stunned face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was just passed noon when the pair exited the hotel into the humid streets of New Orleans. Rogue was back in her green dress from the night before, Remy in his pinstripes and fedora. Rogue felt rather snazzy and couldn't help the light bounce in her steps.

Rogue was surprised to find the streets busy. People mulled around smiling at one another, dipping in and out of various bars. Street musicians sat on corners fillings the atmosphere with lively music from Christmas tunes to traditional bluegrass.

Rogue started off the day with a Hurricane from Pat O'Brian's, since the theme of the day seemed to be drinking. Ignoring Remy's amused smirk behind his mug of chicory coffee, Rogue took generous hits from her delicious yet gut-punchingly strong drink.

Remy cut her off halfway through the second when pavement started weaving back and forth, declaring it was time for lunch.

The next few hours flew by in a blur of sightseeing with Remy showing Rogue all the local hotspots and historic landmarks. Rogue had never been particularly interested in history, but even she had to admit New Orleans' tales of pirates, voodoo priestesses, and ghosts were anything but boring.

It was twilight as they walked languidly through the narrow streets, making their way to the riverfront. More musicians lined the sidewalks and a small mass of people gathered below the moonwalk to dance informally to a Cajun rendition of Jingle Bells.

Rogue couldn't help but smile at all the couples spinning around and laughing. People around her were clapping to the beat, giving her the urge to join in. She crossed her arms instead, embarrassed.

Suddenly, a hand clasped around her forearm and tugged. Startled, Rogue tugged back and turned her eyes to a grinning Cajun. He tugged more forcefully, propelling her forward.

"Swamp rat, what are ya doin'?" Rogue asked apprehensively.

The swamp rat smiled grandly, showing his stupid perfect teeth and pulled her arm once more, causing Rogue to tumble into his arms. "Dancin'."

"Oh no. No. Ah don't dance."

"Today y'do."

"Uh uh! No way in hell!"

"Relax, Roguey! S'Chrismas! Humor an old Cajun."

Rogue sighed and reluctantly placed her hands in his. Immediately, he wrapped one of her arms around his neck and pressed his hand into the small of her back. She could feel the heat of his palm soak through her dress and sear her down to the bone.

"...Ah don't know how to do this," she whispered.

Remy ducked his head to catch her lowered gaze. "Don' y'worry 'bout it," He whispered back, "Trust me." Without preamble, his hand left her back and raised to her face. Before Rogue could react, he lightly brushed one knuckle down her cheek, tenderly.

The warmth of his skin - surely it wasn't normal for people to exude so much heat! - hit her first, then almost immediately the tingling pull of her powers kicked in. In a dizzying rush, she felt memories of dance steps and midnight waltzes flood her mind.

Remy swayed on his feet for a brief second and Rogue tightened her grip on him to keep him from falling. After a moment, he shook his head, then smiled wistfully. "Y'sure do pack a punch, ma _belle Cherie_. Now come. Dance _pour moi."_

Rogue let Remy lead her to the center of the square. Surrounded by dancing couples, Remy held her tight and began to lead her into a lively swing dance. And dance they did. With barely a thought, Rogue's feet automatically began to move, following Remy's steps with immaculate precision. It was eerie, being able to know which moves Remy was about to do before he even had a chance to begin it. It was if they were sharing a mind, responding to each other's movement and shifts of weight.

Remy decided to up the ante by letting go of her waist and spinning her away from him. Rogue braced herself for the lift she knew was coming. As Remy pulled her back toward his body, Rogue bent her legs and pushed off the ground, right as Remy's hand enclosed around her hips and lifted her into the air. Swinging her legs to Remy's side, she twisted and whipped her legs over his back. Remy's arm pulled back and caught her calves, hooking them securely in the crook of his elbow. He let go of her hip and Rogue twisted and swung her torso upside down and around Remy's back, effectively twirling around his body like a hoola hoop. As her torso jerked upward again, Remy caught her, cradling her in his arms. He spun around a couple of times as she kicked her feet jovially. Next, he threw her legs upward and Rogue catapulted backward, back flipping out of his arms. He grabbed her, twirled her under his arm and yanked her close, back into the traditional hold.

Rogue was vaguely aware of the dancers around them clearing off to the side to watch them, cheering and clapping as they executed more lifts and dips. Time escaped her as she lost herself in the movement, enjoying the feel of Remy's sturdy hands guiding her around the square. She barely realized the song was ending until Remy dropped her into a grand dip. Holding onto his neck, Rogue stretched her form into a straight line, posing as the ending note lingered in the air. Breathing heavily, she looked up Remy. With his body bent over hers, his face was very close. Her smile faded as his stupid mesmerizing eyes latched onto her own. She briefly wondered what color hers were before her brain froze under the weight of Remy's stare.

His lips parted and his tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. Rogue's brain melted and began boiling and steaming like a teakettle. Her chin lifted on its own accord and her eyes fluttered. She heard Remy's breath hitch and watched with anticipation as he slowly lowered his head. Her hazy mind vaguely recollected that this was a very, very bad idea, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember why. Her hands traveled up his neck and into his stupidly soft hair. She wished she wasn't wearing gloves so she could feel the silky strands run through her fingers.

Wait... Gloves.

"Fuck!" she yelled in his face and pushed roughly against his chest, causing him to stumble backward and her to land solidly on her butt. Distantly, she noted and stubbornly ignored the gasps of the crowd around her.

They stared at each other, unmoving. Rogue couldn't decipher the expression on Remy's face, but whatever it was, it was intense and caused Rogue's heart to lurch painfully. She had the sudden, mortifying urge to cry. But Rogue would rather be caught dead than cry in public, so she covered her sorrow with anger. Glaring at Remy, she whispered, "Stupid Cajun."

Remy's eyes lowered and his expression shifted to one of despondency. The emotion looked wrong on his usually cocksure, jovial, stupidly handsome face.

Mercifully, it only lasted a couple seconds. In a blink of an eye, his face converted back to its usual suave, smirking setting. He stood up and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet.

The crowd looked uncomfortable. They shifted on their feet and exchanged baffled comments between them.

Remy slung his arm around rogue's shoulders and shot a hundred-watt smile at them. "De _femme_, she really know how to sweep m'off m'feet, _non_?"

The crowd laughed, pacified. The small band started up again. An upbeat rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Remy gently led Rogue away from the crowd toward the river. Adjacent to the moonwalk was a handful of cement steps leading directly into the Mississippi, disappearing into the murky water. The moon was stark against the inky sky; the last strips of pink and orange just disappearing beyond the horizon. Lights glittered in the distance beyond the river, encased by a light fog.

Remy sat halfway down the steps. Rogue followed, sitting half a foot away. Their hands were still entwined and she stared at them in wonder. She liked his warmth, even through the gloves.

Remy sighed and shifted so he was lounging with his elbows on the step behind him. He stared out at the water for a few minutes before opening his mouth to speak. He hesitated, closed his mouth again, then shook his head, frustrated at his apprehension.

"Look, Rogue, I want you t'know dat - "

He was interrupted by a loud rumbling and the steps beneath them began shaking violently. Remy swiftly grabbed Rogue to keep her from stumbling down the steps. Cautiously, they climbed to their feet, clutching to each other's forearms.

"What the hell, Swamp rat? We don't get earthquakes this far south!"

"Don' look at me. I didn' do it."

"No. I did."

As one, they whipped their heads toward the top of the stairs. Lumbering above them was a hulk of a man covered head to toe in red and silver body armor. An odd helmet with a plastic face guard masked his features, but he radiated tension and power.

Rogue felt Remy tense beside her and his grip on her arms tightened. "Petrakis."

"Gambit, " the man returned. It was not a friendly exchange. Both men stood stock still, eyeing each other as a wave of aggression passed between them, growing with each passing second.

Rogue, tired of the male posturing, placed her fists on her hips and quipped, "Well, _Gambit_, ain't ya gonna introduce me to yer nice friend?"

Remy started, as if suddenly remembering her presence. He relaxed into an easy pose, but it seemed to be a struggle. "_Mais sho'_, _ma petite_. Dis here is Dom Petrakis, also known as Avalanche. He an' I- we go way back." He offered Avalanche a grin, but it looked more like a sneer. "So, _mon homme_, t'what do I owe dis lovely visit? I assume y'ain't here for coffee and beignets? Who y'workin for nowadays?"

Avalanche just smirked as a second figure approached, stopping beside the huge lug of a man. The second figure was a drab, completely un-noteworthy gentleman. Someone whose face you would not be able to recognize in a crowd five minutes after passing him by. But as the man looked down at them, he cocked his hip out to the side and placed his hand on his hip. His skin began to shimmer and shift. His shape lengthened and slimmed, molding sensuous, feminine curves. Blue scales wrapped around her body and golden eyes glowed from beneath thick red lashes.

Rogue gasped as Mystique stared down at them with a quiet, mischievous smile. She glanced quickly at the man beside her. Remy looked like he had swallowed a mouthful of swamp water.

"Magneto," he spat, his eyes hardening.

"Balls," Rogue replied.

And with that, they simultaneously turned and took off down the boardwalk like two bats out of hell.

_Run em, like run em, run em, whoop!_

The ground beneath them began shaking and pieces of concrete began to rise and buckle in front of them. Remy deftly catapulted over the shifting debris, hauling rogue behind him. They leapt over the railing, dropping to the square where they had been dancing only minutes ago. The mass of people were now scattering about, screaming.

_Run em, like run em, run em, whoop!_

Rogue and Remy sped into the throng of people running across the street, away from the riverfront. More or less hidden amongst the crowd, the two ran into the Old Quarter and ducked behind a building.

Panting, they leaned against the brick wall, sneaking peeks around the corner.

"Magneto's after me," they said in tandem. They stopped and looked at each other in confusion. "He's after _you_?"

Remy shook his head. "Y'never cease t'amaze me, _chere_. _Hein_, let's not wait around and find out who he wants."

"Good plan."

With that, they took off again down the narrow streets, ducking into various alleyways and side streets.

_When the sun goes down, down, down, down_

_Boy you're afraid of the dark, dark_

They weaved through tired tourists and drunken teenagers, until the corridor opened to St. Anthony's garden, a small green square fitted right in back of St. Peter's Cathedral. They hopped the small iron fence and scurried between the bushes, squatting behind the marble pillar displaying the beautiful statue of St. Anthony.

_And when the lights go out, out, out, out_

_Tell me do you know where to start, start_

Back against the cold stone, Rogue looked up at the grand figure above her as she caught her breath. The saint's arms were held out, reaching for the sky as a smirking angel sat crosslegged at his feet, staring down at her.

Wait. That wasn't right.

Rogue was able to grab Remy's coat and yank him out of the way just as the angel leapt off the pedestal toward them in a flash of blue. Rogue didn't waste time scrambling to her feet, letting Remy push her out of the gardens and back into the maze of streets.

_And when the base gets loud, loud, loud_

_That is when I feel a part, part_

As they passed Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, Remy pulled Rogue into the old converted bar. Bypassing the customers, he led her to a dark corner where the dim yellow lighting did not reach.

_And when the world sleeps sound sound sound sound_

_..the sound is the key of my heart_

Sweat trickled down Remy's stupid, perfectly sculptured face. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he looked over at a panting Rogue. "T'ink y'still have me in you?"

Rogue started, misinterpreting his words. _Oh_! Blushing furiously, Rogue shrugged.

Remy handed her a handful of cards. "Just in case."

"Thanks."

"Oh, an' _chere_?"

"Yeah?"

Remy grimaced. "Try not t'blow up my city, _oui_?"

"Okay. "

_We run.. yes, we run_ _the night, the night_

_We run .. yes, we run the night, night, night_

They inched out of the back door, creeping cautiously through the terrace. Reaching the stone wall, Remy leaped on top of it with inhumanly graceful agility. It was kinda hot, Rogue thought. _You know, for a stupid Cajun._

_We run .. yes, we run the night, we we we run _

_We .. yes, we run the night, the night.._

Rogue shook her head to clear the inappropriately timed thoughts from her mind then accepted the proffered hand above her. Remy hoisted her up and she landed in a crouch with an elegance of her own. Remy eyed her with appreciation.

_Run em like, run em, run em, whoop!_

Together, they leaped from the stone terrace and took off down the street.

_Run em like, run em, run em, whoop! _

As they skidded around a corner, Rogue's face smacked into a wall of something very warm and sturdy. Reeling back, she found herself staring into the huge black eyes of a startled mule. It whinnied and tossed its head as Rogue slowly backed away. She jabbed her elbow back roughly, hitting Remy in the gut when he started guffawing.

"Oooomph!... _Cherie_, you are priceless." He paused, cocking his head. "And a genius." With that, Remy grabbed Rouge's arm and yanked her forward passed the mule and toward the carriage roped behind it.

The carriage driver, a scrawny little guy who couldn't have been more than eighteen, was snoring peacefully behind the reins. Remy simply grabbed him under the armpits and hoisted him out of the driver's seat like he weighed nothing at all. Depositing him on a nearby bench, Remy jumped into the vacated seat and pulled Rogue up beside him. He cracked the reins and was off before the boy could even sputter his disbelief.

_Feelin like a rush rush rush_

_Pushing past me all over my skin_

Speeding down the avenues, tourists and street artists scrambled to get out of the way. Remy turned sharply onto St. Peters Street, causing the carriage to skid and careen dangerously onto one wheel. Smashing into a trashcan, the carriage landed upright with a violent crash, causing Rogue to grip her seat and grind her teeth.

_I can get enough nough nough_

_'cause the beat keep pullin' me in_

Flying down the largely empty street, Rogue couldn't feel the rumbling of the earth below her until the mule began to whinny and falter. As the animal clopped clumsily to a stop, the carriage car kept going, slamming into the mule's ass. The beast reared up onto its hind legs then took off again with a greater vigor until a huge crack in the pavement grew and spread its way toward them. Rogue almost flew out of her seat.

_Taking me so high up up up_

_A place that I've never been ahh_

The mule attempted to swerve to the right as the fault reached them, but the carriage couldn't manage the turn and toppled over, sliding toward the widening gap. At the last possible moment, Remy circled his arm around Rogue's waist and jumped from the car. Grabbing the end of a balcony, he hefted Rogue over the banister. Landing on her butt, she spared a moment to glare at the Cajun before scrambling to her feet. Taking three running steps, she sprang up to land one foot on the lattice and leapt onto the balcony of the next building. She felt more than heard Remy follow.

_Party party all night night night_

_sleep all day then do it again._

Balcony to balcony, they leapt with an almost choreographed grace. Reaching the corner building, Remy whistled to Rogue and braced his foot against the lattice. He stretched up and grabbed the edge of the roof and quickly hauled himself up. Immediately, he bent down to offer his hand to Rogue. Side by side, they ran across the tiled roofstops of the French Quarter, flying from one building to another.

_We run.. yes we run the night, the night_

As they headed toward the northern edge of the Quarter, buildings stood farther apart and a smattering of foliage rested at the street corners. Remy flew across the heavily slanted roof of a residential home. As he reached the precariously attached gutter, he sped up and braced his foot against the creaking metal. He pounced toward a neighboring tree and grabbed onto a nearby branch with both hands. He swung his body, released the branch, managed a back flip, and landed comfortably on the cobblestone sidewalk.

_We run .. yes we run the night, night , night_

Rogue followed the stupidly agile Cajun. But as her foot hit the creaking, rusted gutter, her balance was thrown off as it disconnected from the roof tiles. Her body flailed as the momentum threw her forward. She managed to slap a single hand onto the low hanging branch that Remy had just swung so effortlessly from. It jerked Rogue's body violently and her grip slipped. She braced herself in expectation to hit the pavement, but instead of her butt meeting cold cobblestones, she found herself enveloped in strong arms. She looked up at Remy's gloating smirk and scowled to squelch her desire to smile back.

_We run .. yes we run the night_

Remy set her down and took her by the hand. In once swift movement, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over the back of her glove, his stunning eyes never leaving her face. A split second later, he turned and continued to sprint onward, using his grip to drag her long behind him. The movement was so quick, Rogue didn't have time to deliver the punch that she wanted to deliver to his face.

_We run… yes we run the night. Night, night, night…_

They hit the intersection of Basin Street, and was dead-ended by the historic St. Louis Cemetery #1. A shared look, matching shrugs, and a running leap was all it took before Rogue and Remy were hauling themselves up the iron-wrought gate and on top of the tall cement wall.

_Run em like, run em, run em, whoop!_

They hopped from mausoleum to mausoleum, their feet skidding over the crumbling, aging stone. It is said the cemeteries in New Orleans kept their graves raised in enshrined tombs – from small, rough blocks of cement with gouged holes where the name marker once rested, to ornate vaults of expensive marble, surrounded by sculpted angels, meant to house generations of wealthy families – to keep the bodies from washing away in the low water table of the swampy lands the town was founded on. Knowing this didn't help the creep factor as Rogue struggled to keep up with Remy's pace with the dim lighting and dark shadows dancing around her.

_We run, yes we run the night_

A piece of granite broke under Rogue's feet and caused her knee to buckle. To keep from falling on her face, she dropped her knee to the stone, lunging her other leg forward and using her fingertips to push from the roof, and with a sharp twist, diverting sharply to the side. Her hands grasped for the neighboring mausoleum, however her fingers met instead with a smooth expanse of angled plaster. Her body slammed up against the wall and she found herself sliding down the most random, ridiculous white pyramid. Sliding to her feet, she looked at the monstrosity, cocking her head.

"Nicolas Cage." Remy slid up beside her, his head cocked to the side as well.

"Really?"

"Yup."

Rogue shook her head. "Only in NOLA."

Remy grinned and ran his hands through his hair. "Hey, Marie Leveau's right over dere if y'wanna –"

Remy's invitation was cut short when the ground shook violently. A large crack ran through the pyramid, splitting it in two with a huge bang.

"Uh… maybe later."

"_Oui."_

_We, we, we run, we, we, we run, run_

_We run, yes we run the night._

A feminine cough came from behind them.

Rogue sighed and squared her shoulders. It looked like she wasn't going to get out of a little chat with her resident megalomaniac and his henchmen. Looks like her holiday was effectively over.

_Run em, like, run em, run em, whoop!_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX

"Нет, нет! мы обещали вам тройную оплату только один раз это сделать. " Tessa rolled her eyes and drummed the fingers of her free hand against the desktop.

There were few things more aggravating than dealing with the Russian mafia. They were arrogant and presumptuous, although, Tessa had to concede, it was not without reason. They were easily one of the most powerful organizations in the world and have proven themselves more than capable of outmaneuvering almost every corporation and institution in existence. _Almost every._ Tessa sighed and shifted the phone to cradle against her shoulder as she flipped through the obscenely thick pile of papers in front of her, scanning the freshly faxed list of the mafia's current activities at a pace too quick for her mind to keep up with the images flashing through her vision. Therefore, it wasn't until five pages later that it registered what she had just read. She interrupted the stream of Russian against her ear and flipped back to the memo that had caught her attention. "заткнуться. Your eyes on Magneto's base reported the apprehension of two mutants at 7:15pm." Tessa looked down at her watch. A good twenty minutes ago. "I want the details."

Tessa listened with a slight frown. "Oh, no. This will not do," she said to herself. With a murmur of thanks, she ended the call and stood. "This will not do at all." She grabbed her coat and exited the office, mentally scanning through the list of late-night takeout options. This was going to be a long night.


End file.
